


Wish We Could Lay Up

by Asukachan07



Series: WestAllen AUs [19]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Corporate, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anti-social Iris, CCPN is an advertising company, Drama, Dubious Ethics, Exes, F/M, Fashion Model Barry, Fluff and Smut, KillerVibe - Freeform, Meet-Cute, Mild Angst, Mild Kink, Race and Gender Issues, Real World References, S.T.A.R. Labs is a talent agency, Strained Relationships, West-Allen - Freeform, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 07:49:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 51,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28347939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asukachan07/pseuds/Asukachan07
Summary: Advertising Manager Iris West needs to hire a new personal assistant to ace her new project with a fashion magazine. Her success is sure to land her an overdue promotion.Fashion is not her cup of tea...or rather her cup of coffee. She usually likes it black since she's intolerant tobullshitlactose, but she discovers that an alternative to theoffice dramadairy might be just what she needs.
Relationships: Barry Allen/Iris West, Cisco Ramon/Caitlin Snow, Past Barry Allen/Becky Cooper - Relationship, past iris west/eddie thawne
Series: WestAllen AUs [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1471967
Comments: 78
Kudos: 86





	1. It's Almost Eight

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, another WIP...but I want to end the year on a light note! No complicated plot, just West-Allen drama, fluff and smut. Please forgive mistakes and inconsistencies, I just wrote this after listening to "Coffee" by Kelly Rowland on repeat, hence the fic and chapters titles. I myself don't know the first thing about coffee, I'm a hot chocolate kinda girl.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Iris Ann West loves few things in life: her estranged family, her satin-lined hoodie and coffee.

Yup, that’s it.

She wishes she could say that she loves her job, but she hates it.

Don’t get her wrong, she loves the challenge of working with the chief financial officer of Central City Partners + Napier*. She loves coming up with innovative ideas, she loves the research that takes her out of the office, and she takes pride in exceeding the expectations that her boss still seems to think are above her. She appreciates what he's done for her, truly, but if he showed that appreciation with the promotion Iris is overdue for, then maybe no one in the company would whisper that she's overpaid or that she doesn't deserve an office.

She makes as much as anyone who's been working the way she's been working for over a decade at CCPN, and she got her office because it was her agreed upon reward for a top project that Eric personally asked her to tackle. If Iris wasn't getting her bonuses and congratulations toasts along with that office, she would think that she's being exploited by her mentors. Apparently the timing was never right to promote her, that's all... right.

But hey, now a new window of opportunity has opened, and she knows that Eric and Mason will come through for her.

The main reason why Iris hates her job is not the career itself, it's the drama of the corporate office life. Her works takes her out in the street most days but she’s got to punch in a minimum of 28 hours, and no, the meetings with the marketing team don’t count. So that’s 28 hours Iris must spend enduring the passive-aggressiveness of her colleagues, which has the bad habit of starting a department-wide rumors that in the long-run gets someone fired. 

Oh, don’t worry, Iris herself never takes the fall. She’s actually a recurring victim of the soap opera that often originates from the last ten floors of the forty-five-storied skyscraper. People can’t stop gossiping about her just because she apparently made it far in the company "too quickly". And when some envious jerk dares insinuate that she’s earned her spot as the Chief Executive Officer’s protégée and the Chief Marketing Officer’s unofficial right hand by using her “physical attributes” to her advantage...let’s just say that all the people down at H.R. know how she drinks her coffee. Yes, that’s a high level of closeness because Iris doesn't have friends at work. Or anywhere else for that matter. But that's not the problem.

The problem is that most of those envious jerks are her own personal assistants! She’s had five of them this year. She’s still bitter about the last one, who badmouthed her in the restroom while she was waiting forever for her and the other occupant to leave so she could wash her bloody hands. It had been the dreaded second day of her period, when her trusted menstrual cup wasn't too trustworthy.

*****

_“I heard that the media director is getting transferred to the Metropolis branch next year. Miss West will finally get that promotion!”_

_“Nah, I doubt it. Mr. Evans will steal it from her. He’s killing it. He deserves the promo.”_

_“No way, he’s not the right fit in my opinion. Plus he’s too new. You’re newer, that’s why you don’t know. If the decision was made by votes Scott would get many votes for sure, but not mine._

_“Scott? Not Mr. Evans?”_

_“Oh, yeah, Miss West is the only one who’s strict about formalities. You’ve been here a month already! How didn’t you realize that?”_

_“Wow. She’s got one way up her butt.”_

_“Not gonna lie: if I had a but like hers... or that pronounced hourglass figure! She’s wasting it with those school teacher's outfits! She’s so smart and beautiful but she’s...not boring, but you know? How is that even possible...”_

_“...you lesbian, Park?”_

_“No? I just got eyes. You probably don’t get the time to admire her walking around the upper floors because she’s making you work as hard as she is. I did a project with her as an intern...I learned so much, but it was intense. Maybe when she’s the director I’ll have what it takes to work with her again. Our current project is challenging too, so I'll be used to the high stakes atmosphere.”_

_“Why don't you root for your own boss? Scott is great!”_

_“I told you, he’s too new. And Miss West’s a better fit. She’s been in the firm for twelve years and only got one promotion from junior advertising manager assistant.”_

_“That’s...not possible, is it? Not just the promotion, but twelve years of experience? She’s only twenty...five? Twenty six at most.”_

_“No idea. I mean, I learned everything from hearsay but the claims are supported by what I saw down at the archives. Don't go yourself if you have allergies, ugh. So yeah, she volunteered here as a student, then she got offered an internship because she won some writing award for a paper about the firm. She’s so passionate about the job so many years later. She’s inspirational.”_

_“...oh.”_

_“What?”_

_“I...I thought she got that fancy office through connections.”_

_“Which connections?”_

_“I mean, networking. You know?”_

_“Everybody networks.”_

_“You know what I mean!”_

_“No?”_

_“Oh please! Just a minute ago you were gushing about her hourglass figure and you’re not even lesbian. We can both imagine what those old pervy white men around here think of doing to her.”_

_“They think, no, they know, that she’s off-limits. They wouldn’t dare proposition her because Mr. Larkin is very protective of her.”_

_“Well duh, he doesn’t want to share her!”_

_“Oh my God, Spencer!”_

_“Uh?”_

_“You should be ashamed of yourself! Iris West is a woman of high integrity! There’s no way that she would sleep with anybody in the company, let alone the boss who’s a father figure to her—don’t you crack an indecent joke!”_

_“Well that explains everything.”_

_“What? What explains what?”_

_“West’s not dating because she basically lives for her job, right? If she's not fucking anyone in the company, then it's no wonder she’s so uptight: she needs to get laid!”_

_“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that...again.”_

_“Oh? Who else said that.”_

_“Your four predecessors, who were just as out of line as you. Please don’t repeat that and get fired too, okay? There are only three of us people of color in the upper floors.”_

_“Four, you mean? There’s Evans.”_

_“Three women of color. Fuck Evans, he’s so arrogant.”_

_“You should tell that to Miss West, not me. I’m lesbian.”_

_“Oh? Wait, you don’t find her attractive at all?”_

_“She’s as straight as a beanpole...and like you said she’s overworking me, so I can’t like her by principle.”_

_“Well, go make her a cup of expensive coffee before she realizes that you’re slacking.”_

_“Ugh, don’t remind me. At this point I’m qualified to run a coffee shop...no, for real! Why can’t she drink regular coffee like everyone? If Evans is arrogant she's egomaniac! And do you know how she takes her coffee?”_

_“Black no sugar no cream, right?”_

_“I wish it was just as simple! I mean, in the end it's always black and bitter, just like her, but she...fuck.”_

_“What? What, what did you...oh. Oh, hi Miss West!”_

*****

To be fair, Spencer isn’t wrong, Iris does like her coffee just like her: black, rich and yes she’s a bitter woman, because life keeps giving her lemons and she swore off making lemonade in fifth grade. So she only uses the zest to flavor her coffee drinks. 

But she can’t have any coffee right now because the machine in the twenty-third-floor's break room looks weird. She doesn’t know how to use it to turn her brand new bag of Ethiopian espresso into a delicious cup of honey-colored liquid. She's going through a moderate makeover to go with her new project. Gotta embrace new things, right? Get all ready for that promo.

Eric dropped by her office on Monday, personally handing her a challenging project: working with the trend-setting fashion magazine 'Rogues'. When she reminded him that she knows very little about fashion and that she's been working without a personal assistant for weeks, he told her to hire a new one herself and allowed her to look outside if she has to as long as she keeps the new PA for six months minimum. Her PA track record is a stain in her otherwise spotless career, and firing a PA in the middle of a long-term project of that level would be reason enough for her to be denied her promotion by the other members of the board, especially the Tockman siblings William and Beverly, who together own half of the company. They hate Iris because she ruined their hopes of a cure for MacGregor's Syndrome. She can't care about them because her mom hates her for that very same reason.

Obviously Iris has never had any say in the selection of her own PAs and she has no idea how the hiring process works, so she humbled herself on Tuesday and asked for help from Lashawna Baez in H.R. She and her right hand Janet Petty are the only other black women in the company. Unlike the rest of the company, those two know how she got so far in the company: she is...a coward? A sell-out? A hypocrite? Maybe all of the above.

She’s made sure to never, ever suggest that she's the victim of any type of discrimination. She only refers to general articles from the code of conduct about harassment when people speak ill of her. Baez discreetly keeps trying to make her file a civil right complaint, but Petty lives up to her name by calling Iris 'Oreo.'

It's true that Iris should've said something when she was overlooked for the media director position three years ago in favor of Becky Cooper. But everyone knows that Cooper's parents are investors. Iris actually wouldn't have minded too much if the big-busted blonde was as competent as her and her family's connection was weighed better than Iris' seniority...but Cooper is incompetent. Iris doesn't even bother picking up her slack, she simply does the same work as her (on top of her own) in the early stage of Cooper's individual projects. Mason then gives Iris' drafts to Cooper as if it's a revised version of her own nonsense, and instructs Cooper to follow it to the letter. So everyone in the office knows that Mason hands things out to Cooper because her PA is a big gossip, but nobody talks about it upfront. But when Mason makes sure to list Iris as a major contributor to Cooper's success during toasts, people start gossiping about Iris getting undeserved accolades.

And Scott Evans, who's now running up for this promotion at the same level as Iris? Linda's right, he's fairly new, though he's got an MBA, which he has framed in his office. He was hired two years ago after CCPN was criticized for its lack of diversity. Then his only experience in advertising was his casting in a high-grossing commercial years ago, and he wasn't even the star of that commercial. He was immediately given Linda, who indeed Iris had taught a lot in the hope of getting as her PA. But she understands that Scott and Linda were used to make the company look good, the way Iris herself was never used in twelve years.

That's because until that criticism about the lack of diversity in their branch, Eric and Mason were colorblind.

Yup, those two brilliant and well-meaning white men strongly believed that all citizens have been equal since 1968. They believed that people from minority groups only have to be at the right place at the right time to climb up the social ladder just like they themselves did. They believed that those who "play the victim card" just want things handed to them, and when Eric hired Iris he warned her against doing that. He also promised that as long as she displayed hard work and loyalty he would always reward her fairly. Until two years ago, they truly believed that Iris had nothing to complain about. 

But since that article and after using Evans and Park for PR, they've both dropped subtle hints that they're making it up to her, so she's fine really. She's aware that they had to lick a few boots to get Cooper's transfer initialized. Cooper herself isn't happy to go to a bigger branch, probably because she's aware that her incompetence will show.

Janet can call Iris 'Oreo' all she wants, she doesn't care. What she cares about is getting that promotion so she can help Eric truly diversify this branch, because come on, this is Central City. And once Iris gets that promotion, maybe her parents will forgive her for walking on them and Wally—Wally already forgave her two years ago—when she was a student.

A high school student.

Iris has got to be the only person of color in CCPN without a higher education. Eric doesn't have any higher education either but he's from a totally different era, and Mason at least is a college drop out who went back to school for a year to get an AAS in Marketing. But Iris' got nothing, just the AP Intro to business class that led her curious sixteen-year-old self to Eric's small advertising office back in the day, a year before he got approached by Mason to join the CCPN franchise.

This is the main reason why Iris can't go anywhere else even though most days she feels like her office and her paychecks aren't worth it: who would pay her the way Eric pays her, when she has no fancy diploma to frame in her office? No one.

And that media director position is hers. She will do whatever it takes to get it. Among the benefits it comes with is a fully-funded part-time college education. Iris only has to endure a few more years and she'll be free to move on from CCPN if her mentors ever take her for granted again. She doubts that they will. They know better now.

It’s seven thirty-two A.M. on the Saturday after Eric gave her the project, and Iris is on the twenty-third floor because she’s got to interview a six people today. One of them could be her new PA.

The first interview starts at eight, yet Iris is only half awake because she took too long to choose her new favorite coffee at the co-op. She doesn’t even remember the name of the first interviewee! To be fair, she only skimmed through the six resumes last night. At this stage of the selection process they’re all good on paper. At least that's what she assumes. She initially stopped at the co-op to buy something for Baez and Petty since they helped her get the job post out so quickly. 

Iris gives up on drinking her own coffee so she turns towards the catering table in that break room.

“I hate my life!” Iris means to whisper she but kinda yells it instead. 

The company offers free breakfast on the weekend, so she hoped to get lower but still decent quality coffee from catering. On that breakfast table are an assortment of freshly baked pastries, mini tangerines, a turkey cheese sandwich buffet and three dispensers of drinks. Three, and not one of them has—

“Please don’t say that!”

Iris turns her head to see who said that...and has to take a step back then look up because the guy is a beanpole and is rushing towards the food aka threatening to push her out of the way.

She blinks when her eyes make contact with bright green eyes that she can only qualify as innocent.

“Hello!” He greets with a big childish smile that has no room in their world of sharks.

“Um, hi,” she replies, and even if she wanted to she couldn’t be half as enthusiastic as him because she's got no coffee in her.

He looks like a college student, but he’s dressed smartly. Probably an intern. Iris doesn’t care to know the people who have no probability of screwing up her work, so she’s got no idea who this is. If he worked here full-time he’d know who she is. So intern he must be.

“What I mean is, you’re free to hate your life, of course, but whatever reason is making you hate it right now is sure to go away. Nothing lasts forever, not even trouble!”

How many words per minute was that? And the irony of him imparting wisdom to her would make Iris snort in mockery, but she’s too low on energy for that. Unlike Beanpole who really shouldn't be chewing on sugary stuff. Oh well, he can afford that first thing in the morning because he’s so young.

Iris remembers thinking that about Linda the first time they met. If Iris remembers correctly, Miss Park started working full-time after graduating with an AAS in accounting. Smart move. Better get some experience and then go back to school part-time for her bachelor degree. If she wants to, that is. Not everyone dreams about taking notes in an amphitheater with like-minded students.

Beanpole chirps a cheerful “ex-cuse...me!” before passing Iris.

He abruptly trips but doesn't fall, then more carefully side-steps down the table like a crab avoiding sea gulls at the beach. Iris can’t even react to his entertaining clumsiness because, again, she’s only half-awake.

He picks up a croissant and wolfs it down like he did for the rounder-shaped scone—a cronut, yeah. The catering is from Jitters. It’s seven thirty-five so Iris does have the time to drive to Jitters itself or whatever coffee shop is closest without risking making her first interviewee wait. Or she could go upstairs and use her own coffee maker.

Bur her pride won’t let her do the latter: Evans and his team are there, and she can’t let them see her. She feels like a zombie but she knows that she looks just fine, even great if she must say so herself. She's got minimal makeup on and is wearing an outfit that's nicer than her regular ones. So she doesn't want to deal with Scott and his flirty attitude when she doesn't have all her mental faculties. 

Hopefully she can keep herself together for the first interviewee, who she definitely won’t hire because she’ll be too grumpy to appreciate her personality. Karry Allen, right? Is Karry even her first name? Iris is sure about the last name because it’s the same as a former local celebrity. Right? Iris can’t think too hard at the moment. 

Anyways, sorry Miss Allen.

“Aww, man! Decaf?” Beanpole whines when he stops in front of the coffee dispensers. “I need a boost!”

Ha! See? Now he feels her pain! But no, he doesn’t need any boost after all that sugar he's just had.

“Come on, that can’t be,” the intern speaks either to himself or to her as he looks around the room. “Oh! There’s a coffee machine, so…”

He opens the cupboard right above it and freezes again.

“I really shouldn’t judge, but what’s with the cheap stuff?” He definitely speaks to Iris this time, turning at the waist to look at her with a frowning mouth. “If this is the thing meant to be ingested first thing in the morning, it should be of high quality, right?”

“Amen,” Iris replies with a nod as she squeezes her imported dark roast to her chest.

That makes Beanpole notice it.

“Oh!” He reacts, his green eyes going comically big. 

Cute kid...objectively speaking, of course. Iris’ not interested. Of course not. He’s a kid.

“Um, I mean,” he hesitates as he slowly turns his entire body towards her, clearly aware that her stuff is nowhere near cheap.

Sorry, but no. Iris doesn’t do that kind of charity.

“Good luck,” she deadpans before grabbing the paper bag from the co-op and walking towards the door.

“Aww, come on!” Beanpole exclaims, and has the galls to catch up to her in a few strides of his stupidly long legs.

“I’ll satisfy the both of us, of course!” He promises as he blocks her way to the open door. “You won’t regret it.”

Damn. 

Iris really, really needs that cup of coffee, because right now her brain is so foggy that this boy’s words sound like he’s shooting his shot. She might not be fit to drive anymore. She can even feel the start of a withdrawal migraine.

But she doesn't want to share her new finding with a nobody.

Okay, scratch that, he’s somebody. Probably an intern, right? With his attitude he won't last here. This is a one-time thing...but she can't ask him not to tell anyone, that's ridiculous.

“I’ll treat you to dinner next, how about that?" Beanpole suggests. "Your pick of the restaurant.”

Iris’ jaw almost drops, because wow. That was kinda smooth? Too bad she’s out of his league, he just doesn’t know it. Wait, is that vain of her to think that way? It is, isn't it? And the more Iris looks at him, the more he looks like her type.

“No thanks,” she declines but hands over her coffee bag because her train of thoughts are a huge red flag.

She needs coffee right now, not just to quiet down whatever crazy part of her awakes when she doesn't have enough caffeine in her bloodstream. Maybe her first interviewee is the PA of her dreams and she's gonna miss out because she can't share her coffee? It is expensive. Beanpole doesn't know just as much, does he?

“You can’t afford my favorite restaurant, anyways," she makes sure to specify.

“Not right now, true,” he concedes as he inspects the labels of her coffee, “but if I land the position I’m being interviewed for in twenty-ish minutes, I will be able to afford it in a few weeks. Espresso, huh? Got milk to go with that, by any chance?”

She takes out a brand new carton of almond milk from the paper bag. She’s pleasantly surprised that Beanpole simply nods when he sees that it’s not regular milk. 

She stares, mesmerized, at his quick and sure movements as he shakes the carton, puts it aside, then quickly checks the coffee machine. He was kinda clumsy earlier but now he looks confident and competent. It takes him a minute flat to get the coffee brewing.

That’s when Iris’ slow brain finally processes what he just said.

“What position?” She’s gotta ask, because she needs to make sure that there’s no mix up about the time or that her candidates won’t walk into the wrong room to get interviewed for another position. “I mean, no, don’t tell me that. What’s your name?”

“Andy Sachs,” he replies with a smirk that makes Iris frown because that name rings a strong bell but she can’t tell where she’s heard it before.

Brew faster, coffee!

“Hi Andy,” she greets him neutrally, absolutely sure that none of her interviewees is named that. “And good luck, I guess.”

“Did you miss the reference or is Iris West truly as bad as Miranda Priestly?” Beanpole asks when the delicious smell of her Ethiopian espresso fills the air. “Except the fashionable part? Her reviews say that she dresses like a school teacher. But the job post asks for knowledge in fashion…conflicting points. Anyways, she’ll have me.”

Andy Sachs. Miranda Priestly. The main characters of ‘The Devil Wears Prada’?! So, he’s one of her PA candidates?

Wow, it’s a good thing that Iris put on something less conservative or this very early and very cocky interviewee might have figured out who she is.

Um, maybe not. The reviews can't disclose that she's black or young(ish), and not many would expect that from an advertising manager.

“Why do you look surprised?” Beanpole questions her while he grabs two styrofoam cups near the coffee dispensers. “You don't know who Iris West is? Are you an intern?”

The irony of that assumption isn't lost on Iris, even in her current state.

The interviewee freezes halfway back to the coffee machine, and for a second Iris thinks that he’s realized that she’s the one who will definitely not hire him.

“Are you here for the same position?” He asks instead. “If so I’m drinking all the coffee by myself. I want this job. I need it. Please. Just for six months, then you can apply again. The pay will be even better then, I’ll make sure of it.”

“What if I’m more qualified than you?” Iris challenges as she crosses her arms over her chest, tensing up when she notices that Beanpole’s eyes flicker to her modest cleavage.

Wow, really? Of course he wouldn’t do that if he knew who she was, but still! She’s absolutely not hiring him. She can’t wait to see his face when he finds out how much he screwed up his interview before it even started. She'll shred his resume in front of him maybe...no, that's too cruel. What's his real name then?

“I’m sure that you are, but you’re an attractive young black woman,” he tells her before turning around and splitting the styrofoam cups, placing them in front of him and pouring a third of the quantity Iris expected in each of their cups.

Did he just call her attractive? That's not sexual harassment, he said it too matter-of-factly, but woah. Where's he coming from?

“And Iris is already a woman,” he adds while he unseals the almond milk carton and pours too little again before twisting the cap back on. “So you’d only lower her social standing within the company. She’s overdue for a promotion, really. It’s disappointing that her obviously strong work ethics hasn’t gotten her far enough.”

Ah. He's done his research. Good point for him, Iris will concede that.

“With me she’ll get it,” Beanpole claims with more charisma than he seemed to have at first sight...nah, Iris is just out of it. “Or other men. She just needs to get a guy—”

“Really?” Iris blurts out, intending to sound outraged but her voice coming out as skeptical. So she tries again: “You think that your dick is going to get her a promotion?”

He looks at her with very high eyebrows when he starts shaking the milk again...oh! Is he trying to make it foam? That's what she'd thought of doing too. Ugh, did he have to be good at making coffee? She doesn't want to like anything about him.

“Um, I guess that is another way of delivering the point I'm trying to make,” he agrees. “Iris needs a male PA, at least for a while, then she can go back to picking up women, if she's the one picking her own PAs. All her reviews are from women and I strongly believe that it's been working against her promotion."

Why does he keep calling her by her first name? Did no one complain about her insistence on keeping things professional? And oh, that's what he meant by her just needing a guy. Who's been picking up her PAs? Iris doesn't mind working with men. She works with Mason and she even tolerates Evans...who's got a PA of the opposite sex. So do Mason, Eric and the Tockmans.

No way. Does Scott really have a chance to get that promo instead of her?

"I...I thought that you were going to say that she needs to get laid," Iris remembers to admit, her shoulders deflating. "That's what people say around here."

"Oh? Okay, good to know,” he reacts way too casually before pouring more the missing two-thirds of the steamy espresso then adding indeed frothy almond milk to the top.

“What do you mean, good to know?” Iris squeaks, forgetting to be disappointed in herself for not noticing the patterns amongst the PAs.

“I mean, I won’t mind keeping her endorphins level high if it helps me stay employed for at least six months," he explains while stirring both drinks at the same time. "The reviews make it sound like she’d chew me alive on a bad day.”

Damn right, Iris would!

“I’m probably not her type anyways, or she might not be mine,” he says casually as he takes their cups off the counter and passes hers with a smile. "Twelve years of experience? She could be in her forties now. I'm not ageist, but...I don't think so."

“That’s not the problem!” Iris manages to voice her opinion after gaping speechless. “What’s wrong with you? You know what, never mind. Good luck with that interview. I gotta go. Perfect temperature by the way, I appreciate it.”

Yeah, really. The coffee is still hot but she can enjoy it in the time she has left before the first interview. And now she definitely can't hire Karry. Damn it!

“You're welcome,” he replies before they sip on the coffee at the same time.

They also moan at the same time, because holy spirit! The faint vanilla taste of the almond milk…! Iris tried adding vanilla extract before but it was competing with the berry aftertaste of a milder-roast of the same beans. This? This is perfect. Iris sometimes adds sugar to her coffee, but never dairy because she's lactose intolerant and she likes her coffee black. But this almond milk is worth making an exception. Good job, vegans!

"My bad, my bad," Beanpole apologizes for his reaction, his cheeks turning red. “It's my first cup of good coffee in a while. This is so good, wow.”

He didn't realize that she moaned too, so he really must love the taste. Now that he's blushing and that Iris' brain is kickstarting she sees that he has quite a few freckles and moles on his face and neck. Her only white ex tanned too often for his freckles to show…

Why is Iris thinking about Eddie after three years spent without sparing him a thought? Maybe because she’s going to give Beanpole here a rude awakening...the way she did for Eddie after months of casual dating that he somehow interpreted as them becoming serious.

To be fair, it was Iris’ fault. She should’ve never told him that anecdote about the fortune teller she’d met weeks before their first date.

Iris had helped a young and attractive woman called Cynthia who went by the moniker “Gypsy” (yeah, so original, what with the trailer and the bohemian look) distribute her flyers for free, but she had insisted in reading her future to show her appreciation. Iris had eventually humored her and had readily given her a palm to look at. Cynthia had done the typical show: she'd traced the lines of her palm, had squeezed her hand and had gasped as if she’d actually seen something from the spirit world. Then she'd winked and promised Iris that she would have a torrid and taboo relationship with a fashion model. A relationship that could turn serious if Iris allowed herself to be happy.

The fact that Eddie was a model had been a pure coincidence, and nothing about their relationship had been torrid, or taboo for that matter. Iris had hoped that she would finally satisfy her curiosity about Dom/sub kinks, but Eddie was as vanilla as they got. He did surprise her having penetrative sex in doggy style a few times, and a few times he ate her out without expecting anything in return. But that was nothing extraordinary to Iris. He didn't even spank her or anything, just...anyways.

Eddie is her past, and Iris needs to focus on her future. On her promotion.

“I gotta go,” she says at the same time as Beanpole, and they both chuckle.

“It was nice meeting you,” he says with an expectant look.

Oh, he wants her name? Alright.

“Iris West,” she drops the bomb, and is thoroughly satisfied when he blanches and whispers “fuck.”

She doesn’t get the time to chew him one because someone walks in on them.

“Oh my God!” The young woman screams hysterically, making them both startle. 

Iris takes two more sips of her coffee before watching in disbelief as the girl takes out her phone and starts either taking pictures or filming a video. What the hell?

“You’re Barry Allen!” The newcomer shouts even louder as she gets closer and takes different angles of Beanpole. “It’s true, you’re back! Oh my God, oh my God!”

“Yes, hi!” Beanpole acknowledges her with a smile that makes the girl freeze before she starts squealing at an impossibly higher octave.

Iris takes another sip of coffee for strength.

The younger woman runs back out of the door, then rushes back in twenty seconds later with a pink pen and what looks like her diary.

Is she...is she asking for an autograph or is Iris hallucinating? This one better be an intern. She better have a good reason for acting so silly. Whoever Beanpole is...

Wait. Barry Allen?

Iris' brain is finally running at optimal power, and now she remembers that she got “Karry’s” last name right because it’s the same last name as a local celebrity...Barry Allen, a fashion model Iris only knew by name because he made the news when his promising career got cut short after a lightning storm. Apparently he was struck by lightning during a stupidly dangerous photoshoot outside, and he was put into a coma. 

No family, no close friends. Just millions of peers and fans who mourned what had looked like a great loss to the fashion industry.

That was like, three years ago? A few months before Iris started dating Eddie...so this girl right here had to be a teenager crushing hard on Allen. That explains her effusion, so Iris will let it pass.

“I’m so glad that you remember me, thank you!" Beanpole says when he carefully puts away his cup of coffee and takes the diary and pen with just as much care to sign his autograph. "What's your name?"

“Joss, J-O-S-S!" The girl answers. "Oh my God, thank you Barry! And really, who wouldn't remember you?”

The girl turns to Iris with raised eyebrows as if to get her to confirmation that Beanpole is indeed unforgettable, then she freezes again.

“Oh my God..." she says but in a whisper and the face that everyone who knows they've messed up in Iris' presence do. "Miss West! I’m so, so sorry...I, um...oh God.”

'Oh God,' indeed.

A former star of the fashion industry? Beanpole was the perfect candidate for her project!

“Shit,” she whispers.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The KillerVibe tag isn't a clickbait! There's a teaser in chapter 3 but the couple appears in Chapter 5 onward!


	2. No Time To Waste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris hires "Beanpole".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I said no plot but there's a subplot or two that sneaked their way into the story. Just trust the tags.
> 
> Fast update means minimum editing so apologies for mistakes. Has Been = Beanpole = Fallen Star = Barry Allen, those are not mistakes. Please point out any inconsistencies if you see them! Hope you enjoy!

They moved to the conference room anyways, both with a new cup of coffee—black, no sugar, no almond milk, nothing. Just pure liquid power to go through this painfully awkward moment.

Honestly, though? Iris is too used to awkward situations to actually care about the waves of anxiety coming off Beanpole—Barry Allen. She does feel silly for misreading that name. It would’ve spared her this dumb moment.

“This is the real interview, right?” He asks after five minutes of silence.

She looks up from his resumé and almost raises an eyebrow when she sees that he’s sitting with one ankle crossed over the opposite knee.

You’d think that someone in deep trouble like him would sit less comfortably...though his green eyes do reflect his unease, and the silent tap of one finger on the styrofoam cup also betrays his discomfort. Interesting.

Actually, now that Iris thinks back on it, even his statements earlier were a strange mixture of cockiness and insecurity:

**_I want this job. I need it. Please. Just for six months, then you can apply again. The pay will be even better then, I’ll make sure of it._ **

**_I mean, I won’t mind keeping her endorphins level high if it helps me stay employed for at least six months._ **

Iris now understands the main reason for his self-contradiction: he's cocky because he was once a superstar, a guy who had millions of girls and women—and likely a decent number of boys and men—screaming at him like Joselyn Jackam did earlier. But he's also insecure because he’s not relevant anymore, except for his staunchest fans. Otherwise Iris would've read about him during the one hour of research she's done so far—she's got other projects to complete so she's not rushing this without the support of a PA.

So, Beanpole knows he’s attractive, but he’s not absolutely certain that anyone thinks that it matters anymore. The little background research that Iris has done so far has taught her that with social media anyone can be a superstar model nowadays, which defeats the purpose of modeling? Who cares. Not her.

But Iris isn’t interested in Barry Allen’s talent as a model. She’s interested in his knowledge of fashion, and he has it in spades. Now that she’s taken the time to truly read his resume, it makes sense that either Lashawna or Janet scheduled him first.

But there’s something else, something beyond his experience in the industry Iris knows little about.

  
  


**_“What if I’m more qualified than you?”_ **

**_“I’m sure that you are, but you’re an attractive young black woman, and Iris is already a woman. So you’d only lower her social standing within the company. She’s overdue for a promotion, really. It’s disappointing that her obviously strong work ethics hasn’t gotten her far enough.”_ **

**_“All her reviews are from women and I strongly believe that it's been working against her promotion.”_ **

He has an analytical mind. He observes, assesses and acts accordingly. He’s good at problem solving, and fast too. 

And he makes a damn good cup of coffee on the fly.

Iris hates to admit it, but this man—not boy, unless he’s a genius in disguise and he got his bachelor of science as a teenager—has all the qualities she’s looking for in a PA. Really, the only problem with him is...

“How could you say the things you said to me?” She asks. “Even if you didn’t know that I was the person you were talking about, you were out of line!”

“I wasn’t lying or attacking your character,” he actually defends. 

“You insinuated that I’d sleep with you!” She reminds him, blinking when he frowns then tilts his head.

“Um, no,” he denies, “I insinuated that I would sleep with my potential future boss if it would keep me out of trouble, and if and only if she and I were each other’s type.”

Iris gapes at him, even as he raises his cup of black coffee and takes a sip without breaking eye contact. She manages to keep her eyes fixed on his own even when he runs the tip of his tongue across his lips to catch whatever precious drops of coffee lingered there.

“Th-that’s still out of line!” She stammers. “People have been reported for less—”

“At work, sure,” he agrees. “But I'm not an employee here and I didn’t know that you were my potential boss. I thought that you were an intern with little knowledge of the company.”

“It doesn’t change that you thought that about your potential future boss!” Iris insists.

“Are you evaluating my personal ethics using this company’s code of conduct?” he asks with an accusing tone. “That’s unfair, considering that I don't have access to that code. Also, whereas you eventually learned that I was one of your interviewee, I had no idea that you were my interviewer. That's against any code of conduct.”

Iris freezes.

That’s...that’s true, isn’t it? It was unethical of her to keep her identity secret…

“I hadn’t had any coffee yet,” she mumbles before taking a sip of her espresso, which tastes a bit too strong on its own, even for her.

“Oh?” He reacts lightly. 

Iris sees that he wants to add something, but he wisely closes his mouth and keeps quiet.

That reminds her of Spencer. Unlike Iris’ previous PA who simply took criticism and whispered empty “yes Miss West” or “sorry Miss West,” Spencer always looked ready to argue. Iris had actually liked that about her. Miss Young is a fighter, so Iris isn’t worried about her not getting a letter of recommendation along with her termination notice.

Iris stops herself from wasting time reflecting on how betrayed she feels over that girl’s gossip. It was worse than what any other PA had ever said before, sure, but not the worst that Iris has heard about herself. 

It’s in the past. Iris is getting a new PA, she’s choosing the PA herself even, and she doesn’t have to like the person. The only PA she wants to like is Linda, and Linda will never be her PA. And as wonderful Linda is, she doesn’t have Barry Allen’s irritatingly perfect resumé.

“You’ve worked with ‘Rogues’ before,” Iris states as she taps a finger down on the one page, moving on from the dubious ethics of the first thirty minutes of their acquaintance. “How confident are you that your experience can contribute to the project despite your three-year hiatus?”

“I have brunch with Len in less than three hours,” he answers casually.

Iris’ eyebrows do raise this time.

Len. That’s the diminutive of Leonard Snart, one of the magazine’s two editors-in-chief. The other is his sister Elisabeth. Miss Snart travels a lot, but unless he’s attending a fashion week Mr. Snart is always in Central city. Iris has the phone number of his assistant, Mick Rory, on standby. She’s contacting him first thing on Monday.

“Have you ever used a color printer, a scanner and copy machine?” She switches subjects again, not trying to find Beanpole’s weaknesses but making sure that he’s not as clueless as some of her previous PAs.

She’s groaned and yelled at all of them for printing from the wrong printer on their floor or for print from a printer on the wrong floor. Yes, all departments have color printers, but not all color printers can display the subtle contrast and brightness settings that Iris spends hours perfecting from the original file of the relevant flyers. 

For the past weeks she’s been doing all the printing, scanning and copying jobs herself. On the one hand, it has made her mandatory 28 hours fly quickly, but on the other hand it has forced her to mingle with the cubicle people, meaning that she’s been hearing more gossip than the amount of coffee she ingests can help her endure. 

She needs a competent PA or she needs to buy one of the speed bags she’s seen while browsing the internet for a yoga mat. Her boxing is rusty, for sure, but hitting something sounds more effective as a form of stress relief than risking to break her neck holding an inversion, you know?

“Yes for all, but I’ve only used machines that do both copying and scanning,” Beanpole answers with a tiny frown. “I’m confident that I can use more specialized scanners and copiers adequately.”

Iris watches as he takes another sip of his coffee, and once again he doesn’t break eye contact with her. He smiles when he lowers his cup, and she wants to punch that smile off his stupidly handsome former model face...but she wants her promotion more.

“Get your paperwork done before that brunch,” she tells him when she finally looks away so she doesn’t have to watch that big boy grin of his when he says:

“Thank you Iris,” he says as he stands up, and she keeps her eyes down to highlight the next interviewee’s phone number.

At least she can promise another chance in six months...wait!

“It’s Miss West,” she firmly corrects Beanpole as he’s about to walk out of the room.

“What about me?” He asks out of the blue.

“What do you mean, what about you?” She asks back even though she knows what he means.

She gets the bad feeling that he’s about to say or do something that will upset or irritate her. She better be wrong about this.

“I mean, how will you address me?” He specifies, looking amused.

She wants to say ‘fallen star’ or 'has been' because that's true but it's so rude...and being unnecessarily cruel is not part of her personality. He brings that cruelty out of her, like all the other PAs. So really, he's fit for the job!

“It’s ‘Mr. Allen’ regardless of your preference,” she says instead as she painfully squeezes her highlighter between her fingers.

The irritating thing comes in the form of him biting his still smiling lips before he opens the door. And then the fact that he stares right at her lips when he replies:

“I’ll see you Monday then...Miss West.”

And he walks out without waiting for her to specify what time and how she wants her coffee ready before she walks in. Of course she’ll email him all the details, but…

“Speed bag,” she decides.

* * *

“You’ve got yourself a girlfriend?” Are the first words out of Mick Rory’s mouth.

Iris freezes but Beanpole laughs out loud and keeps walking until he exchanges a bro handshake with Leonard Snart's assistant.

“Does she know that you’re jobless?” The latter asks him, then leans to the side to look at Iris and say “he’s not a top model anymore, if that's what he told you. He’s actually broke now, Miss…”

“West,” she bites out her father’s name.

“The advertiser? My bad, my bad!” Rory apologizes right away, but with a chuckle that shows that he doesn’t feel guilty for the assumption. “Hey man, come later, okay? Len’s got a meeting with this lady. That big ad contract we were talking about? Man, I’m so bummed that S.T.A.R. Labs wouldn’t let you jump on it. Later, okay? Dinner’s on Len!”

Iris glares at Barry as he steps back towards her and raises a ‘one moment’ palm up. He clearly hasn’t informed his friend that he actually did ‘jump on’ the big ad contract!

“One moment please, Miss West,” the man requests while he rounds his massive desk to grab the handset of one of his two desk phones.

He looks more like ex-military than someone who works in the fashion industry, but Iris' not here to judge anyone on appearances.

“Len," Rory says when his boss picks up, "the CCPN’s lady is here...obviously. Yeah, oh and dinner with Barry tonight.”

He hangs up and does a double take when he sees that Barry’s still standing there, his palm lowered and now facing up in an introductory gesture towards Iris.

“I do have a job, Mick,” he announces with so much cheer in his voice that he might as well laugh. “That’s my boss, Miss West. I’m her personal assistant.”

Mr. Rory’s jaw drops, but before Iris can roll her eyes at being forced into this childish surprise-prank, the opaque glass door on the left opens and Leonard Snart walks out.

He also has an ex-military air to him, more so in person than in pictures, but he definitely fits in this dazzling office floor. Unlike his personal assistant who favors a biker look, Snart is dressed to the nines and Iris knows that many women have been charmed by the smile he flashes her as he extends his right hand:

“Iris West? Charmed to meet you,” he greets with a pleasant tone, no surprise at seeing his friend remaining a step behind as Iris walks forward. “I’m Leonard Snart—”

“I know who you are,” Iris deadpans because that’s so unnecessary.

“Always pleased to meet a fan,” he quips as he shakes her hand once more and more vigorously, looking like he means the words.

Usually, meeting the outside associates of a project is the best part of the project, but Iris wonders if she’ll enjoy the office hours better this time.

When Allen moves forward in turn to shake Snart’s hand, she’s reminded that no, she won’t enjoy the time spent in her office for the next six months!

For all that he had a delicious cup of coffee waiting for her when she walked into her office this morning, she hates Fallen Star's guts. He straightened her desk without messing up her personal classification system, which is fine, but he put their office budget in the red by purchasing fancy cushions for the couch, a table cloth and a flower vase for the coffee table, the largest bouquet of golden roses she’s ever seen to go in that vase...and a tea steeper.

When she walked in, he was sipping on her chamomile tea! Which admittedly she never meant to drink because one: it's Scott Evans' idea of a gift; and two: she doesn't own a tea steeper and the damn thing is loose leaf. Also, Has Been is using his own laptop rather than the company issued one. Somehow he got IT to set up everything on his personal laptop already. By eight-forty-five, on a Monday.

Before Iris could yell at him for the frivolous expenses, he explained that the swiveling chair at his desk is uncomfortable so until a new one comes he’ll be sitting on the couch, hence the back-friendly cushions; then he rambled on the benefits of working in an aesthetically pleasant environment, his laptop screen open on a meta-analysis to back up his claim; and apparently his laptop, which is over three-years old, still is more performant than anyone’s laptop in the building because it was partially made by an IT genius friend. CCPN’s own IT personnel only needed five minutes to set it up because it’s that sleek.

Iris decided to forgive Beanpole all his quirks since he personally knows Mr. Snart, but now she can tell that it might not even work in her favor!

“Your boss is the woman I refused to hear about on Saturday, isn't she?” Mr. Snart in question asks with an apologetic wince while he looks back and forth between Iris and her PA. “I owe you. Sorry, Barry.”

“You don’t talk business when you don’t want to talk business,” Fallen Star replies with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “I knew that. I just had to try.”

Ah. Alright, then.

“This way, Miss West,” Snart invites her into his office.

And his office makes her own look like a cubicle. Eric’s office is bigger, but not nearly as nice. The frosty accent of the light blue walls combined with the whites and greys of the furniture give a cold atmosphere to the place, but the geometric lines of the abstract paintings and decorative items here and there project movement, dynamism, almost chaos. That chaos brilliantly counterbalances the coldness. 

Replace the blue with purple and the white and greys with silver and gold, then change the abstracts into still life pieces...and Iris would punch in thirty hours if she could work them in this space.

“You just couldn’t let Wells sideline you, could you, Barry?” Snart asks Beanpole as he rounds his desk. “I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am impressed.”

Beanpole flashes him a smile that makes Iris want to raise her hand like a shield to its brightness. She’s getting grumpier by the minute because she skipped her after lunch coffee. And that’s because she was irritated by the fact that the owner of her favorite street food vendor thought that her PA was her new boyfriend! Has Been didn't even correct him, he just stood there enjoying the sandwich while her former favorite stranger teased her as if they were old friends! Former favorite because of course she's not going back to that truck. Her PA will pick up her orders alone from now own.

Iris blinks back to the moment when she sees that both Fallen Star and Snart are waiting for her to sit first before following suit. That's weird but not in an unpleasant way. Usually she waits for Mason or Eric, or both, to sit down first.

“You see, Miss West, we the Central City fashion scene lost popularity when Barry decided to take a nine-month snooze,” Snart confirms what Iris already read about over the weekend. “So for the past three years, we ‘Rogues’ have had to rely on my sister’s nation-wide connections to stay relevant. We’ve licked many boots from Opal City to Coast City, and reduced our staff to keep our wallets deep enough to afford interviewing all those superstars just to keep our ratings decent.”

Is it okay for him to divulge that? Maybe it’s already on the internet somewhere.

“We’ve tried to revive a nation-wide interest in our local fashion icons,” the editor-in-chief admits. “In vain. Our publications do terrible when we focus on our own talents. At least thanks to this guy,” he juts his chin in Has Been’s direction, “a few of our local designers have a bundle deal that grants them a spot at the Star City and Gotham City's fashion weeks, so their names do get publicity during those times. But that’s not too much of a good thing because they might just relocate closer to the action, so to speak. Here's my sincere thought: we’re a big, diverse and fairly young city. We should have our own fashion week. We were building to it thanks to Barry’s rising popularity...then lightning struck him, put him in a nine months coma, and it’s a miracle that he managed to get his looks back after everything that happened once he woke up. But it's—”

Iris startles when her PA bursts in laughter.

“Please repeat that to my therapists, personal trainer and chiropractor,” he jokes when Snart looks curiously at him. “Somehow they think that it’s thanks to them that I got my looks back, not a miracle.”

Oh.

Nine months in the coma...that’s a long time, isn’t it? There’s no way that people just wake up and walk out of the hospital ready to pick up where they left. Especially someone whose job depends on his physique. Iris was wondering why the three-year-hiatus if he was only in the coma for nine months, but now it makes sense.

“Well, help Miss West help us bring back interest in the in-season collections,” Mr. Snart finally gets to the point of this meeting, “and I will guarantee you that this time next year? They’ll be paying you back all your money plus extra via commissions.”

“In-season collections,” Iris repeats, “those are the collections shown only one season ahead, right? Winter in September and Summer in March, things like that? Is there a particular reason why those are getting popular, other than the ever growing culture of instant gratification plaguing our society?”

“You’ve done your homework,” Snart comments with an appreciative nod, then he shrugs “Unfortunately no, that’s pretty much the only reason. More prestigious designers can afford to make their bigger fan bases wait six months, but that’s not the reality of our local designers. For one, our local elite doesn’t shop local, so they have to somehow seduce the highly educated upper middle class. Sales are at the mercy of bloggers who love to ruin the reputations of our industry's pillars, and they do it with glee because they judge our world frivolous and wasteful.”

“A large aspect of it is frivolous and wasteful,” Iris argues. “And it’s hard to get past the disturbing fact that exploitation and gaslighting are common practices in the fashion industry. If I’m aware of that, your audience is even more so. So I cannot guarantee my help unless I know that you're clear in that aspect, however great Mr. Allen’s experience might help this campaign.”

Silence falls in the room, and Iris can tell that Snart is reigning in his outrage when he asks:

“Did Eric seriously give me a social justice warrior? Does he want money or what?”

“This social justice warrior as you call her single-handedly caused the fall of Stagg Industries. I’d tread carefully if I were you.”

Iris almost cracks her neck when she whips her head towards her PA, who just dropped a piece of information that definitely isn’t public knowledge.

Back when the Tockman siblings liked Iris as much as Eric and Mason, they personally asked her to work with Stagg Industries on a long-term advertising campaign about the only existing treatment for MacGregor’s Syndrome, which was in its last phase of clinical trials. Iris herself had a personal reason to nail that contract: her estranged mother also has MacGregor’s syndrome. The disease is manageable only until age sixty on average but it's terminal—nowadays they say "progressive disease" but that's sugarcoating—so back then a cure was a godsend. Iris couldn’t have imagined a better way to make amends with her parents than to be behind the campaign that would make the treatment more affordable.

But while doing research, Iris discovered that Stagg was a fraud, and she was conflicted but everyone who knew about what she found reassured her that exposing Stagg wouldn’t affect the status of the treatment, that another pharmaceutical company would simply take the relay...but exposing Stagg led to the authorities finding out that the clinical trials of the treatment were fraudulent too. There was no cure, in fact the participants of the trial who’d shown the most significant improvements had received placebos.

One of them was Iris’ own mom, who then accused Iris of signing her death sentence. Iris can’t even call on her mom’s birthday anymore because of that. Since Stagg, it’s just Thanksgiving, Christmas and the New Year.

“Is that a threat, Barry?” Snart asks Beanpole, who simply tilts his head in response.

“It’s a promise that I will unearth every hidden skeleton ‘Rogues’ has," Iris takes over, "whether or not you choose to disclose them. So I suggest you do disclose them, all of them, right off the bat so I can tell Eric whether or not this project is a good idea. You don’t actually have to tread carefully since I appreciate blunt honesty. Just don’t deceive me.”

Snart stares at her for long seconds, then sighs loudly before opening a drawer. He slides the thin three-ring binder he’s retrieved from that drawer towards her.

“All our dirty laundry is here,” the editor-in-chief says with slow enunciation, “and it stays here. Love us or leave us, but don’t you dare blow whistles on us, missy.”

“It’s Miss West,” Iris calmly corrects him without looking at him since she's started leafing through the binder right away.

Five minutes into her reading, she notices Barry Allen’s gaze on her rather than the folder. So she starts expecting that some of Rogues’ dirt involves him. And it does. But, but...his intentions were clearly noble when he jumped into the fray. No problem there. 

In fact, a lot of this magazine’s not so great side can be justified as stemming from good intentions. Iris is an advertiser, not a cop. None of what she’s seeing here can possibly bite CCPN back in the ass, so…

“It looks like loving you is the way forward, Mr. Snart,” she confidently declares as she pushes the binder back towards the older man, who grins widely as he puts the binder back in the drawer.

“Like I said: always pleased to meet a fan,” he quips. “Now, shall we go over this advertising plan?”

* * *

  
  


“Why did you say that you would tell Eric Larkin whether or not working with ‘Rogues’ is a good idea?” Beanpole asks her hours later. “Shouldn’t you report to Beverly Tockman, the CCO, who would then report to Eric?”

“Instead of showing off your understanding of the hierarchy in our branch, find out who’s the current media director at the Metropolis branch,” Iris talks back as she edits a reply to Mason’s latest e-mail.

He’s asking her to evaluate Cooper’s media plan for her new project. Admittedly, it looks a hundred times better than anything that she’s produced before, but so what? She’s gotta go. She can be great at the Metropolis’ branch. Nobody's stopping her growth!

It's too bad that Iris can’t be that blunt with Mason, and she’s been re-typing her reply for the past ten minutes because her mind is already twirling from the unexpected stress of an invitation to a girls night.

Lashawna is super pleased with Iris’ thank-you gift for her help with the hiring process, and even Janet sent Iris a text message full of kisses and thumbs up emojis because she’s clearly pleased with her gifts too. And now they want her to show up to this lounge bar next Thursday night.

Iris doesn’t understand: what did she do wrong? How is this one-time favor turning into a full-blown social crisis? She doesn’t want to hang out!!! But she’s got no idea how to say that politely without making those two her enemies. She absolutely cannot make them her enemies, not when she might need their help to hire another PA in six months!

What is she supposed to do?

“Everything alright?” Allen’s voice pops up much closer than the couch is supposed to be.

She looks up to see him hovering, laptop in hands.

“What?” She throws at him, and he only raises one eyebrow at her curt tone.

“You look tense,” he dumbly observes. “Want something to drink? Definitely not coffee, but chamomile tea is—”

“Whatever gets you out of my hair, yes!” She replies as she goes back to her email. "Go!"

“That’s...rude.”

Iris slowly, slowly looks back up and glares at Fallen Star’s frowning face, which slowly, slowly turns apologetic.

“You’re...you’re paying me to be in your hair, right?” He rushes to defend himself. “I mean, not literally, though your hair looks really nice, I definitely wouldn’t mind—”

“Mr. Allen,” Iris calls out with the coldest tone she can muster without sounding murderous. Maybe.

“Yes, Miss West?” He asks back after swallowing audibly.

“Get. Out,” she commands, and when she sees a flicker of rebellion sparking in his green eyes she slams a fist on her desk. “Now!”

She sees his fingers grip his laptop tighter, but then they relax and his shoulders even drop as he gives her a polite smile then lowers his laptop on her desk.

His laptop. On her desk. While he has a desk of his own? What the hell is wrong with him?

“On one condition,” Has Been dares bargain.

“Did my order sound conditional to you?” Iris demands to know as something on her desktop screen catches her attention.

It’s a new email. From Becky Cooper.

“Jesus Christ,” she groans, dropping her face in her hand.

“If you told me how I could help—” Allen starts arguing.

“If you could help me get rid of Becky Cooper," she shouts back, "I swear I’d let you do it and would give you whatever you want once you did it!” 

She’s not worried about being heard, of course not. All the offices on the upper floors are sound-proofed.

“Really?” Comes Beanpole’s very calm response.

An alarm rings in Iris’ head, because she realizes now that this guy is much too resourceful for her to bet on his failure.

“Anything within budget,” she therefore specifies, since he blew it all up on his first day. “So next month, yeah.”

Next month is in one week so all in all his purchases aren’t so bad. Iris has never gone over budget and actually has given her share to colleagues, so Tockman the brother can’t hate her more than he already does.

“What if I want my reward today?” He asks, more curious than petulant as he tilts his head.

That gesture plus his very neutral look raises so many red flags in Iris’ head that she makes sure to enunciate her next words very carefully:

“We don’t have money right now, Mr. Allen, you know that. But we will next week, and once we start implementing the plan with ‘Rogues’, I can ask Eric to get you an incentive since you’ve been such great help. Does that work?”

“Oh!” He reacts lightly, his face going cheerful, “don’t bother, please. What I want is actually free. And I’m aware that I blew our budget, but I asked Ambrell in finances and he said that you’re usually very frugal so I'm sure that Mr. Tockman won't mind.”

Again, he’s showing off his knowledge of the company's structure. That reminds Iris—

“Good, now go get me a cup of coffee,” she asks with a smile she knows is very fake but whatever, “and when you come back I’ll tell you all about Becky Cooper, okay?”

Hopefully Iris can calm down from whatever is in that email by the time he returns.

Beanpole nods, takes his laptop and places it on his own desk—someone from IT already got rid of the company laptop—and he takes both his tea cup and her coffee mug before walking to the door.

Iris is about to click on Cooper’s email when her PA speaks up again.

“You didn’t actually confirm that I’d get my reward today.”

“If. It’s. Free, of course you can help yourself!” Iris almost blows up on him so she quickly adds in a softer tone “right, Mr. Allen?”

“Right...Miss West,” he replies before opening the door and walking out.

He doesn’t slam the door or anything, but Iris’ pretty sure that she saw something dark in his eyes.

Before she can freak out over nothing, she opens Cooper’s email:

**Good evening Iris,**

**As you might know, I am scheduled for a transfer to Metropolis six months from now. I am grateful for the honor, but Central City is my home and I cannot imagine working so far away. All my family and friends are here.**

**It’s no secret that you’re next in line for my position, nor is it a secret that you deserve greater recognition for all that you’ve done for the company—**

Iris pauses, takes a deep breath, because she's paranoid thinking that Cooper is about to declare war on her. That’s not possible, is it? Cooper knows that she owes her everything. She wouldn’t dare.

**—so I think that you should be the one transferring to Metropolis. A promotion and a transfer to a bigger branch at the same time! Wouldn't that be wonderful? You’ve got nothing to learn here anymore, after all.**

**I heard that you were given some fashion magazine stuff. Totally out of left field, right? You know absolutely nothing about fashion, it’s clear as day. That’s how high the bar is for you now, how impossible the difficulties must be for you to feel challenged! So going to a bigger branch would be more beneficial for you; you'll have room to grow there.**

**And you don’t have anyone here. You’re a lone she-wolf, and I admire you for that! That’s why I think you’d be a great fit in the Metropolis: they’re not as close-knit there as we are here, so the atmosphere there won’t throw you off, whereas I know that I’ll be out of my depth there.**

**Let’s talk about this great plan in more details with Eric or Mason after the next meeting on Thursday, okay? I’m out of town right now, otherwise I would’ve come directly to your office, of course.**

**Have an excellent evening!**

**Becky**

**(Not Miss Cooper, that’s my aunt!)**

Iris re-reads the email, twice, to make sure that she didn’t somehow make up the words the first time around. Then she stands up, paces around the office, stops by the ceiling-high window to look at the sky turning orange as the sun goes down, and goes back to her desk to read that email again.

It hasn’t changed, nor disappeared like she hoped it would. She really hoped that it was all part of her amazing imagination.

She needs air. 

She’s going to clock out early today since she might stay later tomorrow anyways. No worries there. She’s going to walk home, she's got sneakers in her car trunk. Yes, she's going to leave her car in the parking lot overnight and take an Uber in the morning. The walk will help her relax, then she'll take a nice, long bath...

“Miss West? Where are you going?” Fallen Star asks when he comes back in with a tray.

Along with her mug and his tea cup, there’s a bowl of...strawberries. Right, this is about the time when whoever has failed at eating healthier today donates their food in the break room.

“Don’t worry about me,” Iris tells him as she shoulders her purse then starts sraightening her desk. “Make sure you stay until business hours are over, alright? Don’t leave early on your first day because it will reflect poorly on me. Oh, yeah, print that info on the Metropolis branch’s media director, and finish your online training—”

“Iris!” He calls out, stopping her from opening the door by placing a hand on her wrist.

“Don’t touch me!” She reacts vehemently. “And it’s Miss west, you has been supermodel!”

“W-what did you call me?”

Shit.

* * *

“Please don’t report me,” Iris says for the...she’s lost count.

It’s been half an hour since she let the insult slip up on her tongue, and she’s back at her desk. She finished typing her reply to Mason about Cooper’s plan. She said that it looks great and that she’s grateful not to have to tag on that extra project because she needs to give everything on the Rogues’ project...since so much is at stake for her. There, she gave the praise like Mason wanted, but she also made sure to warn him that she's not backing down from that promotion.

“Would anyone truly report their superior for that?” Fallen Star casually asks above her.

No, not Fallen Star, nor Has Been, nor Beanpole. It’s Barry Allen, or Mr. Allen, or Allen. Iris needs to show respect and use his real name. Real name only! She's never been this disrespectful, and she's ashamed of herself. What's wrong with her?

And what's wrong with him leaning so close, standing over her while she’s fully seated? Well, she's not letting him any closer to read Cooper’s email. It took her all this time to allow him to see what's upsetting her so much in the first place.

“Now, that's something I’d report my superior for,” Allen calmly declares before starring the email, then—

“What are you doing?” Iris asks, and in a panic she grabs his hand on top of the mouse. “Don’t do anything stupid!”

“Forwarding this to H.R. wouldn’t be stupid,” Allen objects flatly.

“She’s the daughter of our biggest investors!” Iris informs him as she pries his hand away from her mouse. “And go sit at your desk if you’re done here!”

“Of course I’m not done here,” he denies but steps aside.

She warily watches him staring at her for a whole minute.

“Her email is an obvious example of cyberbullying, Miss West,” he argues as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t need to finish reading this company's code of conduct to know that. This is basic ethics. She’s your direct superior—”

“I report to Mason,” Iris lets the newbie know. “Or to Eric. Nobody else. I have seniority over most people here, and definitely over Cooper. No need to blow things out of proportion!”

“Is this how they’ve kept you complacent?” He asks.

“What?” She reacts, taken aback.

He briefly unfolds one hand to wave an encompassing hand around him.

“This office, your pay, only reporting to the branch’s owners?” He elaborates. “In exchange for enduring the way everyone else has been mistreating you for God knows how long?”

“Watch your tongue, Mr. Allen,” Iris immediately warns him. “You’re an employee now and are on the clock, so I will evaluate your personal ethics using our code of conduct.”

“You can’t fire me,” he states, sounding at once outraged and bored. “I know that because they told me at H.R. They wished me good luck with you by the way. Someone even wished me to get promoted halfway through my contract so I won’t have to put up with you the entire six months.”

“Who said that?” Iris asks, guiltily wishing that it’s Baez or Petty.

That way she can bluntly turn down their invitation and tell them why.

“Some interns or newbies,” Allen answers with a shrug. “Does it matter? Everyone gossips about you here! I was here for two hours on Saturday and today is my first day and I cannot believe that this is your working environment! Twenty-eight hours of this? Wait, do meetings even count?”

Iris snorts, feeling triumphant over him for once. She slowly turns on her swivel chair, bringing her legs out of the wide space between the two columns of drawers—there’s so much space there that her first PA, Tracy Conwell, actually hid in there once. Iris can fondly roll her eyes at that today because Tracy is still with the company just in a different department, but Iris was not amused back then.

“Welcome to the corporate world, Mr. Allen,” she tells her brand new PA. “Did you think that we were any better than the fashion world where you come from? Just because there’s a code of conduct doesn’t mean that everyone treats other with respect and consideration.”

“Yet you freaked out over me taking offense at being called 'has been'?” He talks back. “And you expect me to play by the book?”

“I do treat people with respect and consideration,” she points out. “That’s why Eric and Mason treat me better than most. Their opinions are the only ones that count to me, and therefore to you. The others are just insects buzzing around my head. Don't mind them.”

“Please,” he responds with a snort of his own. “Remember who you’re talking to.”

Right. Local superstar who was getting nationwide fame...and likely some nationwide hate along with it.

“Then what’s the problem?” Iris challenges. “Just do as I say and these six months will fly by before you know it!”

He peers at her with a little frown, then...then he checks her out. She thinks that he checks her out? It’s actually hard to tell with the sunset at his back.

“You’re totally my type by the way,” he tells her calmly. “In case my flirting on Saturday and Mick’s comment earlier flew right over your head.”

Iris freezes.

“But I don’t think it did,” he adds, and quickly bites the corner of his lips. “I think I’m your type too.”

“Do these inappropriate statements have a point?” Iris questions, then blinks when he chuckles then pivots on his heels to face the window.

“I thought that you were bluffing during the interview,” he says as he pulls out his cell phone from a pocket of his expensive looking slacks. “But you’re just oblivious, aren't you?”

“Excuse me?” Iris reacts. “And who gave you permission to use your personal phone right now?”

“It’s to get rid of Becky,” he tells her matter-of-factly without looking away from his phone screen. “You’re asking the wrong question, Iris.”

He turns his head to look at her, knowing damn well that she’ll let this one pass because she disrespected him earlier.

But he doesn’t turn his head away, and after a few seconds Iris freezes, because what did he just say? To get rid of Becky? Is it a habit to be so informal with his superiors, or—

“Hey Becky, how are...yeah, I woke up two years ago...you know, actually I should’ve! I totally should have asked you to pay all those bills! But my brain was slow the first few months after I woke up and my agent took advantage...no idea where he is right now. He was smart to disappear before I got back on my feet. He’s the one who convinced me to do that lightning storm photoshoot, by the way. Was I dumb or what? Everyone told me not to trust Thawne.”

Oh God. Iris can’t believe how casual he is recounting what happened to him. It must have been terrible! But also...did he just make a passive threat to his former agent?

“Yeah, I know you’re out of town...no, I haven’t been looking for you, clearly...what’s going on is that you’re a pain in my new boss’ perfect ass, and I can’t have that.”

What?!

Did Iris hear what she just heard?

“Who else? Iris West, yeah...uh-huh, I’m the new PA. Seriously Becky, didn't you say that you changed? That email is more subtle than anything you said to me in high school, but come on. ‘You know absolutely nothing about fashion’? ‘You don’t have anyone’? That’s word for word what you told me...no, seriously, read again what you wrote yourself! Me reading it definitely would’ve triggered me before the coma. But it feels that my brain sacrificed the neurons connected to my emotional responses to you just to save the rest from hypoxia.”

Jesus! Did he have to be so harsh?

“...yeah that was mean,” Allen agrees with Becky’s complaint, which was loud enough that Iris heard her voice...which means that this isn’t a prank.

Iris' new PA is pissing off Becky Cooper!!!

He turns towards her and frowns as Becky’s voice gets even louder, but gradually lowers back down. Iris clearly catches one sentence though:

“Wait, wait, I’m your boss? Fuck!”

At that point Allen stares straight into Iris’ wide eyes. They’re wide because she doesn’t understand why Cooper is panicking. She is Iris’ direct supervisor so she is Allen’s indirect boss. She can make his life miserable...again, if Iris understands their history.

“Oh, so you’ve read the new code of conduct, huh?” The PA asks rhetorically. “I don’t think everyone in the company has...oh, that was you being nice to Iris? Right...Miss West.”

Miss West in herself didn't correct him because she's too busy checking out the electronic version of the code of conduct, scrolling to the harassment policy. She actually hasn’t read the new code of conduct. The update came after the criticism about diversity two years ago.

Oh? What is the fuss, it looks right, there’s nothing new or anything. Ah, wait! On top of protecting subordinates from supervisors, now members from minority and other vulnerable groups are protected as well, and at any position. Anyone who's both a subordinate and part of a vulnerable group will be assumed to be the victim in any case of harassment until the other party can provide substantial proof to the contrary or witness account from an unbiased third party.

Wow, okay. Well done Eric. Iris is proud. The company is heading in the right direction!

“What do I want?” Allen is still talking. “Transfer like you're supposed to, Becky! And don’t even try calling your parents, Jesus Christ. High school never ends, like they say...you’ll make new friends! They’re all fake anyways...of course I know, I woke up from a coma with no one but that leech of Eobard Thawne by my side! At least he left me in good professional hands...huh? Yeah I’m fine now, even Len said that I got all my looks back...I think I feel just like before but I can’t really remember what before felt like.”

Iris feels terrible for her PA...and terrible about herself.

She refused to stick around when her mom got diagnosed with MacGregor’s Syndrome. But she was young, and tired of shouldering responsibilities that weren’t her burden to carry...yet she should’ve at least visited more often. She meant to, the first years, but work was intense.

“...still have bills to pay, of course, I’m so poor it’s not funny,” Barry Allen admits to Becky while still looking at Iris, and how can he be smiling at his own misery? Better laugh than be depressed, she supposes. 

“Wait, what? Pay for…” he then chuckles, then leans against the window as he listens to Cooper.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head at whatever nonsense she spews, and the orange and pink colors of the sky seem to paint his left cheek and eyelids. And just then Iris notices his long eyelashes.

She actually thought that he was wearing fake ones in the few pictures of him she quickly looked up over the weekend. But no, he probably just had a thick layer of mascara, wow. Iris is sure that some women would kill for those lashes. She herself has decently long lashes, it’s just that they curl into perfect Cs so she actually has the opposite problem everyone else has: she would need to uncurl them before applying mascara if she cared about her lashes length. She doesn’t. She started wearing makeup to look professional, that’s all. Eddie complained that she always had the same look—

Woah! This is the second time in less than a week that Iris has spared a thought to her last ex. What’s going on?

Right, right, fashion model, just like her new PA used to be.

“...bribe me two minutes after I mentioned the code of conduct?” Barry Allen is asking Cooper. “You’re unbelievable...yeah, no worries, I won’t report you, just transfer—thanks, thank you ! Yes, I’ll let Miss West know! Thank you Becky! Yes, bye!”

He hangs up with a triumphant smile, his eyes back on Iris.

She blinks, once, twice, three times…

“Where did you come from, Barry Allen?” She asks him in a voice barely above a whisper as he approaches her.

“The fashion world,” he answers, then forces her to fight off a little panic when he steps too close and bends over to brace his hands on her chair's armrest. “And you’ll get a first taste of it tomorrow, Miss West. I hope you’re ready.”

“I’m always ready to do my job,” she replies as casually as she can then reaches out for her coffee mug to have a good reason to turn away from him.

She lets out an exhale that almost sounds like a gasp when Allen’s hand moves to grab her wrist.

“That coffee's cold by now,” he tells her, his breath fanning her forehead. “I can get you a new one, or a cup of tea this time?”

“Tea is good yeah,” she readily agrees, keeping her eyes on her mug, feeling the silly urge to beg the coffee inside to spill out of nowhere so her PA will jump out of the way.

What? That’s ridiculous! If she wants her PA to move, she can just make him move herself!

“Excuse me,” she tells him almost too loudly, placing a fake smile on herself before she looks up at him.

She immediately purses her lips inward because he’s staring at them with the most predatory look she’s seen on anyone. Anyone looking at her, that is. She crosses her ankles, vaguely proud for wearing high-waisted pants today, but also hoping that the movement distracts from the subtle shiver originating from deep under her skin and making her tremble like a leaf.

“I got rid of Becky for you,” Allen announces quietly, his breath now right over her nose, and it smells of strawberries.

Makes sense, he was eating them while she was replying to Mason. He was being kind of loud about it too. Or she was paying too much attention to those juicy red fruit. Whatever.

“Yeah, I heard you do it,” she replies evenly then clears her throat to make him bulge.

He doesn’t! What is he...oh! A 'free' reward! He just wants her to say 'thank you', doesn't he! She is a bit stingy on those, she needs to work on that. She tends to say 'well done' or 'good job', but people need to feel valued.

“Thank you,” she tells him with genuine gratitude, though she has to force it out of her chest a bit. “I’m glad that I didn’t let our bumpy first meeting cloud my judgement about you, Mr. Allen. You’re an excellent personal assistant, and—”

She loses her train of thoughts because she’s just watched his pupils blow up out of nowhere, and he slowly bites his bottom lip when his eyes then looks her up and down again.

“You’re welcome, Miss West,” he speaks quietly again after slowly releasing his lip, his pitch lower than what she’s heard so far. “May I have my free reward now?”

“What?” Iris reacts, confused.

“You said that I could have anything,” he reminds her, his volume slightly higher and his tone skeptical.

“Y-yes, I said that,” Iris confirms, another shiver running through her but that one makes her want to hide under her desk just like her first PA.

What? She’s not hiding anywhere! She won’t let this brat of a new PA make her cower like some scared little girl! She’s twenty-nine, for heaven’s sake!

“Yes, so?” She rephrases, glaring at him. “Move and go get your mysterious free reward! I don’t ca—”

The rest of her sentence dies somewhere on Allen’s full lips, or maybe it gets slowly torn apart by the gentle nips of his teeth, or does it get sucked into his mouth by his tongue?

Iris doesn’t care.

She does care that she’s getting her first kiss since Eddie, and why the heck would she think about Eddie right now? He never kissed her so passionately: with demanding hunger, and pleading longing, and seductive challenge…

Her right hand is still poised to grab her coffee mug, and Allen's left hand is still on that wrist. They do move a bit, but only because the rest of their bodies do. His right hand first cups her face so he can guide her head sideways in order to deepen the kiss, to lick deeper into her mouth. She moans loudly at that. It’s not a complaint, it’s just...feedback, yes, feedback, because that kiss is so good. Oh God, it's so good!

Allen's hand disappears from her cheek and she almost whines at the loss of his warmth, but instead she gasps when that warmth lands on her covered thighs, she can’t tell which one first because the way his lips softly pulls on her own lower lip drives her insane. It drags a sound out of her throat, a sound she knows brings men to their knees, literally. Allen’s hands were on her legs to spread them open and now he’s lowered down on his knees so finally she moves her left hand and slips it into his hair, and wow that’s soft…

A phone rings.

It’s technically Iris’ office phone but it’s on the PA’s desk. The sound of it crashes over Iris’ mind and wakes her up like a bucket of cold salty water because what. The. Hell.

“Oh my God!” She gasps when Allen dutifully moves away from her to pick up the phone. 

“Central City Partners and Napier,” he greets with a slight hesitation and his pitch going up from too low to normal. “How may I help you?”

Iris’ rising panic at having kissed her PA fully blows up when she sees his eyes bulge out.

Oh God, is it Mason? Eric? Do they already know what she just did?

“Cisco,” Allen whispers, then tears gather in his eyes.

Huh?

Who's Cisco?

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments! Sorry I didn't read them all until after I posted this update! Replies coming up!


	3. You Need The Stress Relief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update! Again sorry for mistakes and inconsistencies, please point them out so I can edit later.
> 
> Things are going down, but this is rated M not E, so there's nothing explicit explicit, if you know what I mean. Sorry?

“Cisco,” Allen whispers, then tears gather in his eyes.

Huh? Who's Cisco?

"I mean, hello Mr. Ramon," Iris' PA corrects himself while rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm.

Woah.

Francisco Ramon is on the phone? The Francisco Ramon, high tech fashion design prodigy who has his own fashion week called 'Vibe'? Even Iris knows about him. Barry Allen personally knows him???

Iris has no idea where Ramon is based. Vibe starts in Tokyo on a Monday and ends in Gateway City on a Sunday. No one knows, right? Um, Iris actually has no idea, that's gotta be a rumor she's read on the internet years ago. Ramon looks Hispanic slash Latino, but who knows. She clearly needs to do some research! She does know that Ramon never goes in person to his own shows. His creative signature is to show up as a holographic projection on the runway.

"Oh, I need to confirm that she's available," Allen says on the phone. "May I put you on hold? Thank you."

He presses the hold button with the finger of one hand while tucking the handset to his shoulder with his other hand, his head hanging as if in defeat. Then he takes a few audible breaths before clearing his throat and turning to Iris with a very realistic fake smile.

"I highly recommend you just say 'yes Mr. Ramon,' and 'of course, Mr. Ramon' to anything he says," he advises. "Please? We can negotiate for real during the meeting."

"Negotiate what?" Iris asks in a little panic as she approached the phone. "What meeting? How do you even know him? Is he American? Did you meet here? Abroad?"

"Oh," Allen reacts with surprise, then smirks. "You're actually star struck? Good, good, he likes that. Here."

"What?" Iris exclaims while passively taking the receiver.

No she's not start struck, just confused! She only needs a quick centering breath and by the time her PA presses the hold button again she's back in business mode.

"CCPN Advertising, Iris West speaking," she greets.

"Is that a real name? That sounds too pretty to be real," is how Ramon responds.

There's music playing in the background, those instrumental tracks with loud bass that Iris associates with the runway. Someone shouts behind Mr. Ramon something that Iris doesn't catch.

"If it's your government name, kudos to your parents," the designer congratulates before Iris can confirm that yes it's her real name. "Moving on! Breakfast at nine, come hungry. Bye."

"I'm sorry, but I have—" Iris starts but shuts up when Allen starts flailing his hands around.

"What was that?" Mr. Ramon asks loudly as if the volume suddenly went too low.

Iris freezes for a second or two. Leonard Snart pulled strings for her to meet a few local models whose participation in the campaign is likely to help its success because they have large fanbases. They're all on tight schedules and many might be out of town until the campaign ends in six months, so Iris can't reschedule! She and her PA are supposed to hop between studios tomorrow in order to meet all the models between 8:30 and 11:00 AM!

"Of course Mr. Ramon," Iris forces herself to say, very slowly. "Nine on the clock, and come hungry. Got it."

She'll just go alone and Barry Allen will talk to the models. Iris wouldn't mind skipping crowded places. She usually works with other corporate businesses, not places where they blast club music while people are in all states of dress. At least her PA will be in his element.

"Matter of fact lunch too," Ramon decides. "I haven't seen my guy in three years!"

Is Allen still his guy? Iris remembers how bitter and sad he sounded not half an hour ago when he told Cooper that he woke up alone. Maybe Ramon didn't know that he woke up? If he lives and works abroad...

The fashion designer's voice suddenly gets distant but more intense as he says "what are you doing? That's clearly too long by thirty-six millimeters! Why are you staring at me instead of cutting it off? Oh, hun, you don't know the metric system? That's okay, if you flip that measuring tape...see? Yes, 'cm' stands for...? You don't know? You don't know...well, I don't know if your flight ticket to Paris is refundable but you're definitely not coming with me."

What the...oh wow. Are all fashion designers really such divas?

"What was I saying?" Ramon's voice comes back in normal volume.

"Breakfast and possibly lunch?" Iris recaps.

"Oh God, no," the designer abruptly changes his mind. "I'll be hungover in the morning after drinking myself to sleep to forget this disastrous evening. Let's do dinner at Frankie's? I haven't been there in a while so you book it."

Frankie's, the reservation-only restaurant? How is she supposed to book it the day before?

"Be kind to my eyes and wear a long-sleeve black dress to cover imperfections," Ramon instructs with a bored tone. "And since you'll have all day, get your hair, makeup and nails done professionally. Did I say please? Please be a decent human being...or I'll get you fired for thinking that it's okay to have my best friend work for you instead of the other way around. Alright?"

It's only because she suspects that the guy could actually get her fired—he's a damn billionaire!—that Iris neutrally replies "understood." 

"What was that?" Ramon asks loudly again, clearly not pleased with her reply.

"Yes, Mr. Ramon, of course Mr. Ramon," she rephrases with a fake smile that he can't see but can definitely hear.

"That's a great start, thank you," he replies, then stays quiet for a second, two, three..."you are dismissed, hun. Gimme back Barry."

Iris throws the phone at her personal assistant, who juggles the receiver so it doesn't fall. Then, without complaining, he pastes it to his ear.

"Dude, did Len not explain that she's the help?" He almost shouts at his friend while Iris goes to her desktop to put it on sleep because she's leaving, now, even though she only has to wait forty minutes for business hours to end.

How is Allen friends with such a douchebag? Oh, wait, Allen himself was probably just as bad three years ago, right? It's his fall that humbled him, for sure. Wow, Iris is starting to think that Cooper is right: Eric is really challenging her with this project!

Anyways. She's leaving. She needs fresh air. It's quite warm today so she won't need the coat that she leaves in her car. She doesn't wear her outdoor gears so that people can't track when she actually arrives or leave, but mostly because it would make her sweat buckets when she takes the stairs first thing and last thing during the day. It's good exercise and that way she doesn't have to use the elevator for more than a few seconds between the upper floors.

Allen actually followed her up the stairs after Rogues. He's the first one of all her PAs to do so, but he's a guy he doesn't have heels to deal with. Iris would've thought that he was checking her ass if he didn't always go past her when they reached a level, ready to open a door. She assumed that he was staying behind out of respect, but his comment about her ass to Becky...oh God.

"No, I'm not taking your charity!" Allen in question answers to whatever Ramon tells him. "Where were you twenty-seven months ago? Right, how could I forget your dramatic love story with Caitlin...what? Killer Frost? Yeah I saw last year's Tannhauser winter collection...it wasn't that bad! For real? Well, she changed her phone number, so I couldn't...oh, I'm sorry, was I supposed to wheelchair my way to her non-wheelchair friendly villa all the way to the other side of the city to show my support? You know what, let's drop it. This is a business call, so should I assume that you're in for Len's camp—what? No you can't drop by tonight...yeah, my GPS is off because I'm not letting you or Felicity know where I live, Cisco! Well, let's catch up in a public space, I can't...Cisco, I hear someone screaming behind you. Please make sure that no one's dying? Yeah see you...what, dinner? Why not lun—"

From the way he closes his eyes and sighs loudly, Iris can guess that Ramon hung up on him.

"Now I am..so, so glad that those interns at H.R. told me that you can't fire me," Allen comments as he slowly puts the receiver back in place then rubs a hand up his face. "I can't believe that Len knew where he is all along and didn't tell me!"

"And I'm so so glad that I have a new PA now," Iris replies with a false pleasant tone as she shoulders her purse, "since Mr. Ramon wants dinner at Frankie's tomorrow and I have no idea what strings to pull to book a reservation. Good luck."

"Wait, where are you going?" The PA in question asks her. "We were interrupted by—"

"Nothing happened," Iris immediately denies, her head down as she pretends to straighten a stack of flyers. "I mean, you took care of Becky Cooper for me, thank you, once again! Then you helped yourself to a one-time reward for it. Now, make sure to email me all the addresses of those studios we're headed to in the morning so—"

"Miss West," Allen calls out flatly.

"What," she deadpans as she scowls at him when really she wants to pleads to drop the topic of their very, very enjoyable but absolutely regrettable kiss.

"Are you freaking out?" He questions her. "That was just a phone call."

"I know," she replies defensively. "It's just that I don't usually deal with such arrogant characters—"

"Cisco is by far the nicest designer I know," he deadpans.

"What," she reacts flatly.

"And that was just a one-on-one phone call," he reminds her as he starts typing on his laptop. "Those studios tomorrow? Each model will be in the middle of working with someone with less social filters than Cisco; plus models bickering with stylists, plus interns tripping everywhere, and tech shoving everyone but the designer out of the way...oh, and everyone whispering about me so about you too, but you're used to insects buzzing in your ears, right?"

Iris wonders if Eric actually means for this project to be a failure. Because there's no way that she can have a fruitful meeting in that type of environment, There's just no way that—

"I should also disclose that I personally know all except one of the models we'll talk to tomorrow," Barry Allen informs her with a quick glance in her direction.

"I guessed that much, of course," Iris replies, but when he twists his lips to the side, his eyes back on his laptop screen, "wait! Personally know, as in they're all your exes?"

There are four women and two men...earlier at Rogues she did guess that Allen is bi, but...okay? That's not the problem here. The problem is—

"Worse," he answers, then sees something interesting on his screen. "Good news! Three of them will be at the same photoshoot...at 10:30 AM. So no need to meet them separately earlier. No need to notify them either, they won't care either way. Alright, let me figure out this Frankie's situation..."

"What do you mean by 'worse'?" Iris questions him in shock when he picks up the office phone.

She doesn't even know why she's surprised. Of course he used to be a player! He was flirting with her five minutes into their acquaintance! She can't believe that she enjoyed that kiss...well, it's all from his extensive experience, right? Ugh, she's ashamed of herself. But it was a one-time thing, and in six months he'll be out of her hair, so.

"I rejected all of them," Allen rushes to say before someone picks up on the other end of his call, "hi! Is Matt in today? Great! Listen, I'm sure that he's terribly busy, but I was on the phone with Francisco Ramon and he—yes, thanks. Uh-huh, sure."

Iris would be impressed by his efficiency if she wasn't stuck on the part where Allen rejected five different models, all of whom are amongst the most popular of the city...but they probably weren't as famous three years ago, right? That's why then superstar Barry Allen rejected them? So now that they're famous—

"Does Mr. Snart not know?" Iris wonders out loud as she picks up her , dread building in her belly. "He wouldn't have picked those models if he knew you had a history with them, right?"

"Of course he doesn't know," Allen answers with his finger hiding the mic of the receiver. "And theoretically we're all professionals, it shouldn't matter...oh, I still have to make you a cup of tea! Right after this, okay? Why don't you—"

"No, I'm done with you today!" She makes sure not to shout because she doesn't want to be heard by whoever that Matt is, and right on cue Allen removes his fingers from the bottom of the phone.

"Norvock, 'sup," the PA says as he stands up and gestures for her to wait with his free hand. "Yeah, I'm...still alive, as you can hear! Oh God, no, I don't need to say hi to your boss, just share the good news. So, table for three for dinner tomorrow, okay? Cisco, me and my new boss...yes, I have an eight to four now...I'm more shocked than you, believe me...what time? Seriously? Cisco Ramon will show up when he'll show up, and that's some time during dinner tomorrow...oh, your customer service is your problem, man. I just need to know that you'll get us a table at the patio...yup, all I needed! Thanks, bye."

He hangs up then gives Iris his undivided attention.

"Am I the one who's making you freak out?" He asks right away.

"What?" She returns with surprise. 

"We kissed, but now you're running away," he accuses her. "Did I actually misread you? Was I being a creep? Are you scared that because you can't fire me—"

"Let's make things clear here," Iris cuts him off with a lifted finger that she then points towards the phone. "That? Excellent work. That is exactly what you're supposed to do. Confirming our meeting schedules for tomorrow, too. Well done. Dealing with Becky? I sincerely didn't think that you had the power to do that, and...again, thank you for that from the bottom of my heart! Now I only have to worry about Evans but since—"

"Who's Evans?" He questions.

"Don't cut me off again," she warns him. "Ever, Allen, understood?"

She pauses so he can answer, and almost snaps when he smiles.

"You said that you'd only address me by Mr. Allen," he reminds her.

He can't be for real, can he?

"I'll get my promotion whether or not you keep this childish act, Mr. Allen," Iris says more for her own sake than his. "As long as you do your job, as you've shown you can. I don't care either way."

"You do care Miss West," he talks back while he rounds up his desk, then crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the front side of his desk. "Otherwise you wouldn't look like you're about to rush home and do some intense workout to release all the tension in your shoulders. I know that most of it is anxiety about tomorrow's meetings, but it's also because I make you feel—"

"Is it too hard for you to mind your damn business?" Now Iris can shout. "I'm not paying you to make all these unnecessary comments!"

"Your stress level is my damn business," he almost shouts back, then lets his shoulders sag. "So either you tell me to fuck off and I'll keep my hands to myself for the next six months and let you de-stress on your own like a grown woman...or you let me get you a boiling cup of chamomile tea right this minute, and while it cools off enough for you to drink it I can give you an orgasm."

Iris blanks out for the amount of time she's sure her heart stops beating. Maybe just one second.

Then a wave of outrage washes over her, and she can't believe that it feels more intense than three years ago, when she was angry at life because on top of being looked over for a well-deserve promotion she had to break up with her decently likable boyfriend.

"H-how dare you?" She demands to know. "I made myself clear on Saturday!"

"About what?" He has the gall the ask back. "On Saturday you didn't even know that there's nothing stopping me from seducing you! And I don't have to worry about you retaliating in case you actually hate me, because I'm both your subordinate and a member of two distinct vulnerable groups."

What? He's a white male and...oh. OH.

"How would I retaliate?" Iris asked, her outrage turning into confusion. "Why would I retaliate? I enjoyed that kiss, and I kissed you back—in a lapse of judgement, so it was a one time thing! No need to make a fuss about it!" 

He stares at her, speechless for once. She almost nods in satisfaction but no need to gloat.

"A one time thing?" He repeats. "Are you being obtuse about the unsubtle ways I've expressed my wish to secretly date you?"

"D-date me?" Iris repeats, disbelief eclipsing any other emotion as her heart starts beating so hard that she think she's a minute away from a heart attack. "We can't...we can't date! I'm your direct supervisor! Are you out of your mind?"

"I...specified...se-cret-ly," he slowly points out.

Is this a prank, or is Iris truly dealing with the worst possible case of office drama right here in her own damn office! Her safe haven from the cubicle gossips is compromised!

"That's still unethical!" She argues.

"Was the way I got rid of Becky in any way ethical?" He challenges. "What about the way she was bullying you? Or the fact that Mr. Larkin likely gave you this project hoping that you'd reject it or fail it?"

"I won't fail it!" Iris objects. "Eric would never wish for my failure in the first place!"

"I'd hope not," Allen replies. "But Becky was resisting that transfer, and her family is wealthier than the CEO of the whole CCPN franchise. So of course Mr. Larkin had to stoop low."

"Not with me," Iris denies in a whisper, but then Becky's email gain a whole new meaning.

_**I heard that you were given some fashion magazine stuff. Totally out of left field, right? You know absolutely nothing about fashion, it’s clear as day. That’s how high the bar is for you now, how impossible the difficulties must be for you to feel challenged!** _

"Eric wouldn't do that to me," she insists, stepping closer to her desk so she can lean on it. "You don't know the first thing about him, about us, and you're making all these types of accusations? That's going too far, Mr. Allen!"

"I'd gladly be proven wrong," he claims with a shrug of his shoulders. "But I've seen this before. I've lived this myself! And if I'm right, either by the end of business hours today or tomorrow before lunch, he'll give you a new project. An easier one."

"What?" Iris reacts. "I'm not dropping this project!"

She blinks in surprise at the wide but sad smile her PA gives her.

"I guessed that you'd say that and I thank you for it," he tells her. "I'm stuck with you for six months and apparently can't act on my feelings, so I'd very much prefer working on a project that will keep me engaged and hopefully help me get back in my world of fashion."

Feelings? What feelings? Iris almost blurts it all out loud, but keep her mouth shut. But of course he doesn't let it go.

"Yeah, okay, message received loud and clear," he declares, dejection clear in his voice. "Guess I'll finish my online training."

That's very responsible of him, of course, so Iris swallows down the objection that they can talk some more about this whole secret thing...which sounds exactly like what Cynthia told her three years ago, doesn't it? A torrid and taboo relationship with a fashion model...

No, no of course the fortune teller just said whatever went through her mind. Iris' the one who has subconsciously tried to fulfill that prediction. She's so silly! And Allen isn't even a fashion model anymore. He's her PA! She can't date him!

"Good luck, yes," she tells him as she picks up her mug full of cold coffee. She'll reheat it in the break room, no need to waste it. "See you tomorrow, meet you at the first studio. Great work today!"

"Thanks, see you tomorrow," he replies with a professional tone, and he even gives her a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

Well, at least they'll be cordial and strictly professional from now on. That's all Iris wanted!

So she ignores the disappointment that seems to escape with the sigh that she lets out when she exits her office.

"Oh my, the new PA is proving incompetent already?"

Iris stops another sigh from leaving her lips. Or rather, a groan of frustration.

She's dated guys like Scott Evans before: tall, handsome and knowing damn well that they are, disguising their condescension as modern chivalry, and if not already good lays then quick to acquire skills in the bedroom. Iris' experience with two guys like that was great, but only for the first few weeks. Then it became a chore to make them moan in pleasure all the time just so they wouldn't talk so much.

"Good evening, Mr. Evans," Iris greets coldly, then feels slightly silly for softening her voice when she sees Linda half a step behind. "Hello Miss Park! How's the project with Titans going? Off to Coast City this week, right?"

The young woman quickly glances between Iris and her boss before answering cautiously: "it's going well, Miss West, thanks. I'm learning a lot and hopefully I'm pulling my weight."

"More than," Evans declares with a big grin, but he's looking at Iris instead of properly complimenting his PA. "Park's the best PA in this branch, everyone knows that I'm lucky in that regard. Unlike you, West. Once I move up to media director, maybe I'll hand her to you...if you ask nicely. But I doubt I will, we're a good team! But you'll be in need of yet another PA, won't you? Damn, just how demanding are you, huh?"

"As demanding as I am with her," Eric's voice comes up from beyond the rows of cubicles.

The three employees all stand a little straighter, but while Evans and Park chime "hello Eric!" in sync, Iris stares at the folder in her boss' hands.

"Which is too damn much at times, honestly," Eric adds with a chuckle as he steps towards Iris. "I can't help it, Iris, you always exceed expectations...so I was a bit overzealous telling Mr. Snart that you could work magic on his campaign. But really, it seems that it's doomed to fail whatever we do. In my honest opinion, that Central City fashion week needs a stronger sponsor, you know what I mean? 'Rogues' aren't truly a pillar of the local fashion industry, that's why they need S.T.A.R. Labs' support in the first place. I say we let them sort it out between themselves. But hey! I heard that you got your new PA! Well done! Let's properly introduce him into our world with this new project here, alright?"

"Him?" Evans repeats, looking back and forth between Iris and Eric, then staring at the door of her office behind her. "There's a man in there?"

"Haven't seen him yet," Park comments quietly.

"Introduce us, West, come on!" Evans demands.

"No."

"No?" He repeats with a brief mocking chuckle. "Nobody's going to bite him harder than you, West, you know that! Let him see nicer people—"

"No, thank you, Eric," Iris elaborates as she shakes her head at the folder he's extended towards her. "Unless you want me to work on both projects at once, I'll stick with the Rogues' campaign."

Her tone is suspiciously flat, she's aware of that, but she can't help it. After twelve years of playing the perfect little subordinate, she's done. To think that an outsider figured out her whole career in a few days of looking up the company...

"Are you sure, Iris?" Eric asks, his concern sounding more like panic. "I mean, this project's with the city, and they liaison officers asked for some time to make sure they get as much funds as possible, so no pressure."

"Ah, then I'll take my time with it," Iris changes her mind as she grabs a corner of the folder. "Thanks, Eric."

Anything for the city, and anything to make the gossips in accounting work a little. Eric will want a way to write the expenses off the taxes, for sure. Iris will figure out the trickiest budget possible.

"No, thank you," Eric replies with a fake smile and two quick nods. "But if the Rogues project stops inspiring you, even a bit, you let me know alright?"

Iris' eyes automatically scan the floor and as expected catch cubicle people peering from less than seven yards away. A few see her watch them and pretend to go back to packing up for the day, but most just stare unabashedly, soaking up every detail of this conversation.

"Iris?" Eric prompts her, and she smiles again.

"I'm sure that the challenge will keep me engaged the entire six months," she declares before giving him a few nods as she finishes pulling the folder under her arm, without making the coffee in her mug slush at all. "And when I need a break I'll just tackle this one.

"Workaholic," someone actually comments from the cubicles. Probably one of those leaving.

"Work heroic!" Eric corrects whoever it was, as he pivots away from Iris and props his fists on his hips. "If even ten of you put half of the work Miss West here does on a regular basis every month, I wouldn't be dealing with the ridiculous reviews that popped up last quarter! I better hear reports of improvement this Thursday, y'all hear me?"

"Yes, Mr. Larkin," a few employees answer loudly enough that the CEO lets the rest off the hook.

"Keep up the good work you guys," he then tells the three employees right next to him. "Especially you, Iris. This is a pivotal moment, give it your best as always."

"I will," she promises with another nod.

When Eric walks away, she frowns at Evans, who's still standing there even though Linda Park is walking towards Mason's office. She freezes after a few seconds, realizing that she's left her boss behind.

"Sure you got nowhere to be right now, Evans?" Iris questions her promotion rival.

"You should make formal introductions at the Hump Day social, West," he suggests as he squints his eyes at her padded door, as if he's got X-ray vision or something. "Looking forward to meeting the poor chap. You look nice today, by the way."

Iris doesn't react to his compliment, and he rolls his eyes before catching up to his PA. Iris didn't bother reminding him that she doesn't partake in those social events, but maybe Allen will want to. She won't stop him from enjoying his lunch however he pleases in two days.

"Miss West?" Allen in question reacts when he looks at her from the couch where he relocated with his laptop.

He truly is uncomfortable on that desk chair, huh?

He does stand up to take the mug from her and carefully place it back on her desk, then he accepts the folder she hands to him. He opens it and frowns at the sheets and article excerpts clipped to the folder.

"The mayor's cabinet?" He reads. "CCPN works with the government, too? Aren't they too slow on paperwork and payments? Can't remember the number of times Dr. Wells complained about that."

"What doctorate degree does Wells have?" Iris asks as she closes the door behind her. "Or is it an M.D.? Is that why his agency is called S.T.A.R. 'Labs'?"

"Psychology and the performing arts," Allen answers as he closes the folder and drops it on his desk before leaning against it himself. "You've got to know that I'm sorry. Miss West. I'm not happy to be right about Mr. Larkin, but come on. You've been here twelve years, it's not difficult to—"

"Can I still ask for that cup of chamomile tea?" She cuts him off with a request she suspects she'll regret for the rest of her life.

She almost takes it back when those green eyes go wide, but Allen quickly moves to get the tray on the coffee table, and he almost knocks over the brand new vase with the huge golden bouquet. Then he almost drops his tea cup, and places the now bowl too loudly on the tray.

"Don't you spill coffee on my carpet," Iris feels the need to warn him as he walks past her to get her mug too.

"W-what?" He reacts loudly, turning his long neck to stare at her with a deer in the headlights look that maybe, maybe gives her a little satisfaction. "No, of course not, I...um..."

He takes a deep breath, his chest expanding and falling right under Iris' skeptical gaze—is he all talk or what? But then his tongue flashes between his lips and he clears his throat before speaking again:

"Of course, I'll be careful with your coffee. I'll go slow."

Iris clears her throat in turn to mask a less dignified sound because...did that sound like...? Did she really hear that?

"Be right back," her PA announces confidently after getting her mug, his gait back to normal.

Iris starts panicking as soon as he closes the door behind him.

What the heck did she just get herself into?! Yes, she's one wrong word from breaking down because her life is a damn soap opera and she hates feeling like the tragic strong black woman...talking to Mason would be the better choice, he always knows how to make her feel valued, but he's in a meeting with Evans and Park right now and it seems that all three are doing overtime.

"I hate my life," she groans as she flings her purse onto the couch.

She gets her computer back on just to clock out on the digital system because business hours just ended. Then she toes off her heels, and groans in frustration upon realizing that Allen is even much taller than her than she's thought the entire time.

And he's more handsome than she's dared to admit, and he smells nice, and looks sharp, because of course he does, he's not on the runway anymore but clearly even a nine month coma and two years of rehab don't take away that kind of charisma. Oh, but that means that...he's been with other women since he woke up, right? Whereas it has been three full years for Iris. She's sure that she still has game, but that game was never that high in the first place? Also, she's clean, but a player like Allen?

"Shit," she curses before rushing to the couch to...it's pointless, of course she doesn't have anything, so she goes back to her desk, put it back on sleep mode and drops on her chair, defeated.

So much for office sex. Oh well, at least she's not going to compromise her integrity for a little endorphins rush, right? This is for the best.

"I-I don't have any...got no condoms," she stutters when Allen returns less than ten minutes later and carefully places her mug back on her desk, this time steaming with very hot tea.

Iris peeks at it from behind her interlocked hands, behind which she's kinda hiding her face.

"Not a problem since this isn't about me," Allen replies casually from the other side of the desk.

"Oh," is all she can say now, feeling silly.

He's just going to...touch her? Okay, okay that somehow feels even more indecent to her, but technically it's better, right? Or is that her taking advantage? But he's the one who suggested the whole thing? God, this is why fraternization rules exist!

"Are you sure about this?" Allen asks with a frown, and he tilts his head all the way to a 90 degrees angle to peer at her. "You look even more skittish than before."

"I don't look 'skittish'," she denies as she lowers her hands onto the wooden surface of her desk then pushes on them to stand up. "Let's do this."

She can tell that he's noticing her inferior height, but he wisely doesn't comment. She rounds her desk and steps towards the couch, but Allen gently grabs her at the elbow to stop her.

"What?" She almost snaps.

"Where are you going?" He asks her softly, and she huffs at the amusement in his eyes.

"Where else would I go?" She asks back, keeping her irritation in check.

Is he truly going to make her relax? He doesn't seem capable of doing anything aside from annoying her and shocking her. This isn't a good idea at all. She should leave and walk home instead, like she'd initially planned.

"Do you ever enjoy the view?" He asks out of the blue before he tentatively pulls her forward by the arm. "We can actually see the river from the corner, there."

Iris' jaw drop, and in her shock she dumbly follows along. He wants her to stand the whole time?

"I punched out from the break room, by the way," he tells her as they reach the left-most corner of the ceiling high window. "So, no rush."

The sky is still shifting between orange and pink, the highest part visible already purple. Iris finds out that it's true, she actually has a view on the Gardner from her office. No way? There are a few people enjoying this fairly warm evening on this quickly ending February month. 

"Asking again," Allen asks as he positions himself behind her, his hands going to her shoulders, "are you sure about this?"

"Are you sure that you're not just going to annoy me more in the end?" Iris talks back as she tries to turn around and glare at the first PA who's that much taller than her. She's not too happy feeling small in her own—

"Oh my God," she moans when Allen's hands start kneading her shoulders through her blazer and blouse, making her lean forward to brace herself against the glass window—because her knees falter. The surface of the window is cold to a nearly uncomfortable level, but she's not backing up into his warm body.

The massage goes on for five good minutes, and by then Iris is taking audible but steady breaths that intermittently fog the window. Her next breath ends in a whimper because Allen's hands slip down her chest, under the lapels of her blazer, and readily cup her boobs through her blouse and bra.

"Okay?" He asks for permission...but his hands are already there and they're warm and so big. Is there truly a choice here?

"God, shut up!" she hisses. "If I don't like what you do I'll let you..."

She slaps a hand on her mouth because his mouth goes to the side of her neck at the same time as he starts fondling her breasts. That makes her other hand slide down a bit because her knees just got weaker. She can't take her eyes off his long fingers, and her lower belly tightens at the idea of having those down her pants.

"You're not enjoying the view," he accuses her playfully before he makes her skin erupt with goosebumps via a slow lap of his tongue, from just above the collar of her shirt all the way up to just below her ear.

She has to close her eyes and press the hand on her mouth tighter to keep a purr down in her chest.

"Miss West?" He whispers right into her ear, and she whimpers in frustration when his hands leave her chest.

One of them ends up between her shoulders and her eyes snap wide open when she gets gently but surely bent over.

"If you don't do as instructed," he basically pants into her ear this time, "I'll have to punish you."

Iris hears her own gasp echo when the other hand suddenly rubs her ass.

"W-what? What?" She asks in a panic after removing her hand from her mouth to brace herself with both hands on the window. "N-no, that...I'm not into...no, I..."

She's fantasized about getting spanked, sure, but definitely not by her own damn personal assistant! She can't even turn around because of his hand on her upper back. Should she tell him to get off her? She doesn't...she doesn't mind, but—what will he think of her? What is he thinking right now, bending his own boss over like some...oh God.

"Made you look~" he singsongs, and she's glad that she braced oherself now because his hands suddenly disappearing again challenges her balance, the mental one more than the physical one.

The hell? What is this? Is he toying with her mind or what? And why's she soaking her panties over this? Wait, she doesn't have panties, just control top pantyhose. She bought quite a few after taking fashion advice from a fashion blog, and now she feels silly for wearing panties every day.

"Keep your eyes out, Miss West," Allen tells her just as she catches movement right underneath her from her peripheral vision.

His hands return to her body to pull the hem of her blouse out of her pants, and then they unbutton the blouse much faster than Iris has ever done even on days when she's gotta leave her place earlier than usual.

It's when she remembers that of course, he's a former runway model, that she sees a freight boat pass under the bridge and now she kinda wishes that she could hear the sounds from outside. She loves being outdoors, mostly because nature and even manmade landscapes effectively takes her focus away from actual human interactions, if only for a moment. She spends her few days off hiking outside the city, away from everything, and with spring steadily—

"Fuck!" She exclaims in a shocked exhale, completely taken by surprise when Allen slides her bra cups down and starts playing with her nipples almost all at once.

"Keep your eyes open, Miss West," Allen's voice—which is definitely lower than usual—indeed prevents her from closing her eyes so she can enjoy the sensations he's making her experience.

"I need more, damn it!" She complains after a minute, rubbing her thighs together because she's aching for the fingers that are on her chest.

Don't get her wrong, they feel nice up here too, but—

"Sorry baby, sorry," the apology, combined with the name of endearment, combined with the soft kisses he drops to her temple...that makes Iris melt, which isn't so great because she's standing and losing control of her knees.

"Come on," is all the warning she gets from Barry Allen before he drags her away from the window.

She expects him to take her to the couch but instead he walks her to her desk, and when he switches on her desk lamp she moans quietly because she finally sees how affected he is by what they've been doing: his pupils are totally blown, his cheeks are flushed, matter of fact his ears and neck are even more red. He's breathing quietly but quickly and his hands are a bit shaky and...

Oh, fuck.

Now she's glad that this is only about her. She was definitely not mentally prepared for what's in those fancy pants.

"Oh, thanks," Iris whispers when Allen hands her her mug, and yeah she needs to stay hydrated and calm her nerves a bit but she can't quite appreciate the perfect temperature of the tea because she's curious about the way he inspects her chair.

He moves the levers that she rarely touches, and after a few tries he mumbles something that doesn't even sound like English. Then a few things slot and lock and...her swivel chair is now stationary. She had no idea it could even do that!

She almost spits her tea when Allen goes down on his hands and knees and back crawls under her desk.

"Mr. Allen!" She hisses as she quickly places her mug back on the desk, her volume unnecessarily low. "What do you think you're—"

"That's a lot of leg room for someone as tiny as you, Miss West," he mocks her with a big mischievous grin before he flaps his hand back and forth. That childish 'come on!' hand wave that kids make on the playground or something...yeah, that. He's doing it to her. 

They're in an office!

"Come on," Barry Allen's words confirm her guess.

"What?" She reacts loudly this time.

"Your door doesn't have a lock," he tells her matter-of-factly then prompts her with another wave of his hand, "come on."

She stares at him in disbelief for a few seconds, and he gazes back at her with such calmness that she decides that she should just follow his lead just this once. She blushes furiously when she sits on the edge of her seat and opens her legs wide in front of him.

She tenses up for a second of panic when his hands come up as soon as she's within reach, and Jesus Christ—do runway models get a special training to take off clothes faster than lightning or what? Iris' high-wasted pants have three buttons and a zipper and by the time she gasps in surprise her zipper is already halfway down.

"No?" Allen asks her, tensing up in turn, his hands frozen as he looks up at her with worry.

God, this is so wrong. Her PA down on his knees, halfway in the shadows of the sunset and her desk lamp, about to service her like some personal sex worker or something. Iris prays that this is worth the complete disregard of fraternization rules. Of course she also prays that she won't get caught, and knows that she deserves to go to hell for making that kind of request to God.

"No, no," she answers dumbly, because anticipation has kicked her brain down the curve. "Oh, I mean, yes, um, please."

Her heart does something weird and she's sure that her pupils do too when she sees his lips slowly stretch into a wicked smile.

"Please...?" He prompts her as he resumes pulling her zipper down, but this time so slowly that she can hear the slider go over the teeth one row at a time.

This guy is such a—

"Please, Mr. Allen!" She bites out, not in the mood to play games. She's never in the mood to play games!

They somehow work in perfect coordination, her lifting her hips and him pulling her pants and tights—he makes a sound when he realizes that she doesn't have panties on, and he drags them all the way to her ankles. That gives her almost full range of motion, but she instinctively closes her legs because she's naked from the waist down in front of her male PA!

She can't help her throaty moan when he licks his lips then comes up higher. He briefly kisses the skin of her belly, exposed by her open blouse, then in a couple of seconds her blouse is buttoned again. Iris' hands organically move to his hair when he goes back down and she can't tell whose breathing is louder by the time Allen slots his wide shoulders under her thighs. She feels better about him buttoning her blouse now because he's fully dressed and now it seems that she is the sex worker, especially when he opens her legs wide to expose herself to his view.

He licks his lips again, and she makes the executive decision to stop looking down. She tilts her head back, pressing it to the head rest and closing her eyes, all the better to hear him whisper "look at you."

The first thought that passes in Iris' head is that Barry Allen is warm. As in, his skin feels almost feverish, and she merely has the time to recall that his kiss was literally hotter than any kisses she's had before. When his puts his fingers then his tongue inside her, she loses her capacity to form coherent thoughts. Her brain can only process her sensorial stimuli, and while they originate from between her legs, or all over her hips and legs when Allen only uses his mouth on her bundle of nerves, her responses is systemic.

The fact that she's having one of the most pleasurable experiences, if not the most pleasurable experience of her life...in her office? At work? It's what pushes her over the edge, along with her PA's quiet but enthusiastic sounds as he works her down her high.

She blinks when Allen retrieves one of the restroom's hand towels from his pocket and starts to clean her up.

Iris is the one who helped the spread of their distribution by with Mercury Labs during one of the city's eco-conscious phases. The towels are actually reusable: they're a hundred percent cotton and infused with hypoallergenic oils from the dispenser, but they're treated like one-time use towels. Several institutions in Central City exclusively uses them, and they're collected, sanitized and repacked by Mercury Labs.

"That's really cool, by the way," he whispers when he accurately drops the towel in the right bin then retreats back into the space under her desk.

Iris somehow blushes again when he carefully helps her back into her pants. She reaches out for her mug to pretend that she doesn't see him adjust himself in his pants...

...when her door opens.

"Iris," Mason greets as he enters her office.

He freezes when he sees her stare at him in shock. Iris holds her breath and thinks that Allen below her does too because she can't hear him. If not for his body heat and the hand he has on her knee she wouldn't know that he's still there at all.

"Oh, Iris, I'm so, so sorry," Mason says as he closes the door behind him but stays there. "I was in meetings all day, I just finished with Evans...Eric texted me. Becky finally agreed to her transfer, so everything turned out great, but...Eric feels awful, and so do I."

Iris keeps staring, her brain incapable of even bringing her hurt back to the forefront.

"Mind if I sit?" Mason asks carefully, gesturing to the armchair in front of her desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos, comments and bookmarks! I'll reply to your comments ASAP!


	4. Put It Down Like It's Heavy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning** : 
> 
> 1/ Pretend that there's no plot because I'm not planning on answering interesting questions by the end of this story 🙈
> 
> 2/ Just in case it wasn't obvious, all the fashion and marketing stuff comes straight out of my head, so please don't believe the details of that campaign LOL

"Mind if I sit?" Mason asks carefully, gesturing to the armchair in front of her desk.

Iris' brain finally catches up to what's happening: she's in the most precarious situation possible! If her boss finds out that she's...with her PA, her career is over! Maybe.

Somehow she isn't having a heart attack. In fact she just wants to drop on the couch and take a nap, yet her mind is as clear as spring water. It's the endorphins, of course. She often has breakthrough with projects when she's at home after getting off with her own hands and toys—anyways.

"Sorry, Mason," she apologies with a shake of her head, and woah her voice is all the way off. "I just want to be left alone, just for today...I promise I'll be back to being myself tomorrow. I just...not now."

"Alright, Iris," Mason replies softly, guilt painted all over his face.

He turns around to leave, but stops halfway. "Oh! Is your new PA still here?"

Damn it!

Allen's laptop went on sleep mode but it's still open and there's a cup of tea right next to it on the coffee table. Iris can't lie that her new PA is so negligent that he left without straightening up. But that's okay, really, Iris has worked overtime with PAs before—

"He's probably on the wrong floor trying to figure out how to copy both sides of a flyer," she lies, assigning Spencer Young's initial incompetence to Barry Allen.

Barry Allen, whose hand grips her knee tighter...uh-oh. He's not happy about that lie. 

"He'll get used to it," Mason declares with a chuckle, but then he gets serious and waves his hand in her direction. "Eric's worried that you're sticking with the Rogues' project out of spite, but I know you: the moment you get immersed in that world? Snart will feel dumb for not reaching out to us earlier."

See? This was why Iris can't stay mad at Mason. Unlike Eric who always looks surprised when she nails a contract, Mason has complete faith in her. Maybe it's because he's the one who taught her everything, so doubting her would equate to doubting himself.

"And while I don't know him personally," the older man adds with a nods, "on top of my head I can't think of anyone better than Barry Allen to guide you into the world of fashion."

"What makes you say that?" Iris can't help but ask, reaching out for a post-it and a pen, even though Allen's hand grips her knee a little tighter in a forbidding way.

Whatever he has to say in that annoying way of his can wait. Mason and Iris speak the same language, so his opinion on Barry would provide her an astute insight on how to handle herself when she gets an intense first step into the world of fashion.

"I looked him up three years ago when that lightning strike put him in the coma," Mason admits, then smiles fondly. "In one of his earliest interviews he confessed that he started modeling as a dare."

"No way!" Iris reacts.

"Yes way," Mason replies with an amused huff. "Right off high school, because his ex-girlfriend was terrible when they broke up? Something about her telling him that he was no one and had no one without her, and that he should be grateful that she dated him in the first place even though he had no sense of fashion."

Wait a minute...Cooper is Allen's ex-girlfriend? She bullied him when they broke up? Wow, that woman is too much!

"Fueled by his desire to prove her wrong, he managed to get hired part-time by S.T.A.R. Labs," the chief marketing officer kept going. "and slowly built his portfolio while cruising through college because he had a full ride."

"Wow," Iris whispers, impressed.

She wishes she'd had the full young adult experience of both going to college and working. Interacting with peers rather than spend long meetings with the executive board and other eager employees, learning about all aspects of the business and then having Eric assign her to the Marketing team with Mason.

"His career soared when he started modeling full-time, especially thanks to his regular gigs with Ramon," Mason explains, pauses to make sure that Iris knows who is talking about, then resumes: "a prodigy designer and a hard-working model? Big bucks success. It's because Allen was a softy—not in a bad way! It's just that he had that aura of innocence that's so out of place in the fashion world that everyone wanted a piece of him."

Iris thinks that he got the ghost of that aura of innocence lingering. It's a deceiving one, though. There's nothing innocent about the guy!

"Was it because they wanted to corrupt him, or because they wanted him to freshen up their toxic atmosphere?" Mason wonders. "As an outsider, I can't really tell. What I do know is that he fell victim to the darkness that pervades the industry. More than once, though not all amongst the guilty parties actually meant him harm. Reporters and fans had to dig deep to realize that it only looked that way. A lot of that came out while he was in the coma. While he was climbing to the top, however, he seemed like the Cinderella of the Central City fashion scene, and his fairy godmother was his agent Eobard Thawne...who really is a devil dressed in a Halloween angel costume."

Meaning that Allen should've figured him out from the start...and years later Barry seems to know that, because Iris hears him sigh very quietly at her feet. He even takes his hand away from her knee.

"Now, I didn't bother reading about such an unsavory character in details," Mason tells Iris, "apparently all we need to know is that Thawne is so bad that he's very good. Whatever contract he got Allen took him to the next level while leaving quite a few in the dust. They had a formula that worked, but its application left a few people in the industry...bitter. Sour. Definitely vengeful. Sabotage ensued, but Allen's talent and perseverance combined with Thawne's genius schemes made the boy come up on top every single time. Leaving people more bitter, more sour, more vengeful. Even his fans, with whom he had an excellent relationship, started feeling alienated. I can't stress that enough, Iris, because as you'll see in the next few days, most models are divas. You know why?"

"They don't have a choice?" she guesses. "With all the backstabbing and gaslighting going around..."

"Exactly," he agrees, "they're all aggressive because the only way to move around safely in their sphere is to prove that they're the toughest wild cat out there. But all sources agree that Allen never was a jerk. He was so down to earth that at first his fans protected him from anyone attacking his character or strict work ethics. But the more his work seemed to negatively affect other talents that his fans also liked, the more distance they themselves took from him. Then Allen got tight with Snart, who connected him to the Star City fashion scene, and things started turning back to the early dreamy, fluffy vibes day, forgive me the pun. Allen seemed to make better choices...safer choices in order to help Snart establish stronger connection between local talents so they could eventually organize a fashion week. Barry's popularity was supposed to work with that, so Thawne convinced him to do a few bold gigs..."

"Like a photoshoot during the lightning storm that had the whole city on lockdown," Iris recalls. 

"Everyone interviewed after Allen fell into a coma swore that they told him that it was a dangerously bad idea," Mason informs her. "Many mourned him as if he'd died, because who comes back from that intact? Even if he woke up and even if his name still meant something when he woke up, there was no way that he'd be fit to pick up where he left. And then there was the fact that Thawne had all legal rights over Allen's assets. Not sure what he did with them, but if Allen needs an office job...oh and Thawne relocated Allen God knows where after the first few months he was in the coma."

Iris can only blink from hearing that shocking piece of information. What the hell?

"Frankly, until Eric told me who your new PA is, I had no idea that he'd woken up," Mason concludes. "He must have tried to get back to work, but Central City isn't in the same period of growth that it was back when he was a superstar. Times are hard for local talents nowadays, and those who secured their spots aren't going to let him eclipse them again."

"Wow, thank you for the info, Mason," Iris thanks him sincerely.

"I know that you wouldn't have looked it up yourself," he points out with a head tilt. "You're a professional through and through, keeping your social distance from coworkers. And that's your style, nothing wrong with that."

Err...that's the style that gets the job done? Why would anyone think that there's anything wrong with it?

"But the line between professional and personal life is very blurry in the fashion world," Iris' mentor points out. "So do try to connect a bit with your new PA."

Iris almost hiccups. If he only knew! 

"Hey, maybe you two can come to Hump Day social?" Mason suggests with a big smile, and when Iris blinks at him with an unimpressed expression he sighs. "At least I can tell Eric that I tried. Hey, where is Allen? I thought I could linger around to finally meet him."

"I will tell him that Hump Day social is mandatory for newbies," Iris rushes to say so Mason doesn't linger any longer.

"That will be great Iris, thanks!" The CMO replies. Want me to turn on the lights, or...?"

Right, it's only her desk lamp and the last of twilight lighting up the room now. Which very likely helps her hide her slightly disheveled state. Yes her clothes are on, but not in a pristine shape. She can't let her boss see.

"Don't bother, thanks," she tells him with a little shake of her head. "Business hours are over and I'm leaving as soon as Mr. Allen comes back anyways. I'll see you for sure on Thursday?"

The first marketing team meeting of the quarter. For once she won't have to pay attention to Becky Cooper's parts. She'll still hang on Linda's lips because the girl is good. Meaning that Evans could very well get that promo instead of her. He and Park would give great optics to the branch, two years after the harsh criticism...but Iris' a person of color too! And she's got seniority. And she's going to put Central City on the map. No one will be able to brush her off.

"I'm so glad that this upcoming meeting won't be as awkward as I feared it would be, Iris," Mason confesses as he passes a hand through his hair. "Becky finally settled for a promotion that she definitely doesn't deserve. I'm not sad to see her go. She was forced on me three years ago, and...since you didn't complain, I thought that you understood what a tightrope I had to walk on—"

"Because of her parents," Iris completes his sentence knowingly. "But there was room for two media directors, right? Especially since I've been doing part of Becky's job the entire time. And I have an office as big as hers. But you couldn't pay me the same?"

At first she's proud of herself for staying calm the entire time, then she remembers that her system is still affected by the mind-blowing orgasm from ten minutes ago, and maybe some of that chamomile tea. Well.

"Because...you don't exactly do all of Becky's work," Mason cautiously points out. "There are a lot more...administrative tasks involved."

"After a few days of training, I'll be ready for it," Iris promises.

He winces...why? How much more complicated can those tasks be? What has he not taught her yet?

"I'll see you Thursday," he announces in one breath, then leaves the room a bit too quickly.

Silence settles in the office for almost an entire minute, then Iris freezes when Allen reaches up and pulls a lever that unlocks her wheel. She cooperatively pushes away from the desk and he crawls out then slowly stands up.

She wants to tell him that she's sorry for what he's been through, but he speaks first.

"So not only did he walk in here without knocking," he points out while he stretches his back and neck. "But he played the victim about refusing you your promotion three years ago and then lied through omission that you have a chance to get that promo. At least now we know why."

"What?" Iris reacts, appalled. "Why do you say that he lied about me having a chance to get the promo?"

He twists at the waist to look her in the eyes.

"You have six months to find a new job, Miss West," he deadpans. "I highly recommend opening your own advertising business."

"What in the world are you talking about?" Iris questions him as she clambers to her feet, then moved to slip her pumps back on because she hates feeling so short next to him.

"If Snart doesn't agree with your pricing, what would convince you to lower the bill?" He asks. "A: tickets to the location of your choice for the next 'Vibe;' B: a free ad in every publication of 'Rogues' until the campaign ends; or C: a dress made by Felicity Smoak?"

"Who?" Iris asks, genuinely curious.

"Her cheapest dress last season sold at two hundred grand," he specifies.

"Wow," Iris whispers.

And she thought that the tights she bought at five hundred dollars the pack of three was high maintenance?

"Your answer?" Barry asks as he fully turns to face her. "A: ticket to a globally popular fashion show, B: free advertisement in a popular fashion magazine, or C: a dress you can sell back at half a million dollars in a couple of years?"

"D: none of the above," Iris answers with a scoff. "We don't take briberies."

"That sounded so cool," Barry says breathily, and his gaze somehow looks admiring too. Then he shrugs. "But yeah, you're never getting that promotion."

"What?" She reacts loudly. "This isn't the fashion world! We, at CCPN, don't take bribes!"

"How would you know?" He challenges as he half-sits on her desk and crosses his arms over his chest. "Before today had you ever sat with a client for an initial assessment meeting before?"

"No, but I've sat with clients for the follow-up meetings about the marketing plan in the last seven years," Iris readily answers, then frowns. "What? Did I do poorly today with Snart, in your opinion?"

"That was the most professional meeting I've ever sat on," Allen answers with a head tilt, his words not sounding like a compliment at all. "It was so by the book that I wanted to kiss you right in front of Len just to reassure him that I wouldn't be your obedient little secretary."

"Excuse me?" Iris squeaks.

"But then I also wanted to kiss you just to congratulate you for keeping Len professional for so long," he has the audacity to confess while he's staring right at her lips, parted in shock. "He must be put out that you're the first straight woman who didn't show one ounce of interest in him."

"Is this a joke?" Iris questions him as she props her fists on her hips.

"Miss West, you're not a government worker," he unnecessarily points out. "So your straight-laced attitude is commendable, but very inconvenient for...any executive board. I did my research and found out that you had great work ethics, but I didn't expect...this. And now that I know, Becky actually appears like the perfect employee to serve as the media director: her weak points are easily compensated by your limit robotic style. If it can be called a style at all."

"Are you insulting me just to get a rise out of me?" Iris asks after taking a quick centering breath. "You regret servicing me, and now you—"

She pinches her lips close when he throws his head back to laugh...at her, of course.

"If I didn't have dinner with Len in an hour, I'd 'service' you one more time," he assures her as he gives her a predatory once over, then pats behind him twice, on the cleared side of her desk. "Right here. You taste amazing," he finishes with a quick bite of his lips.

"D-don't...don't change subjects!" Iris chides him and takes a long sip of her still warm tea to partly hide her burning face.

How can he just say that?!

"You're the one who brought up sex, Miss West," he reminds her with a smug smile before he moves away. "I was sharing my very professional guess that the higher ups are leading you on with that promotion."

He switches off his laptop and put it back on the desk to leave it charging, then walks to grab his pea coat by the hanger.

"You're likely their best employee so they do pay you accordingly," he speculates before downing his own tea, placing it on the tray then walking back towards her. "But you can't be granted power because your moral compass would cap off their profits. I'm assuming that they're not racist or sexist since you stayed loyal to them for twelve years, but they're capitalists...and playing by the books can only make you so rich."

Iris gapes at him as he takes her empty cup from him to place it on the tray.

"You definitely should ask for a bonus and raise after this project," he says with a small smile, "but it really looks like that Evans person you mentioned earlier is getting the promotion. I'm sorry? No, not really. I'd very much like you to move out of this working environment."

Iris remains speechless as he walks backward towards the door, grabbing his messenger bag, which she hadn't noticed because it was tucked behind the couch.

"Oh, did Cisco give us a dress code for dinner tomorrow?" He asks her much too casually.

"A long-sleeve black dress to cover imperfections," she bites out, "and my hair, makeup and nails done professionally."

His eyebrows go high on his forehead, then he rolls his eyes at his friend's ridiculous instructions. Then he frowns.

"Your reviews were right about you except for the part where you dress like a school teacher," he tells her. "What was that about? Jealousy?"

"I...um," she hesitates for a moment, then remembers that there are a few company group pictures that will tell him the truth eventually if she doesn't do so right now. "I changed my wardrobe very recently. I knew that I had to look the part when I met Mr. Snart..."

He blinks slowly, twice.

"Well, I'm sure that anything you got for nights out will do for dinner tomorrow," he states with an expectant smile as he approaches the door.

"Nights out?" She repeats with a little panic. "I don't...I don't go out."

He freezes with his hand on the door handle, and she wonders why he's surprised. Didn't he pick that up from Cooper's email and her rejection to attend the Hump Day social?

"Would you trust me to pick a few dresses for you?" He requests. "It would only take twenty minutes, assuming the retail store a few blocks away from Frankie's didn't close over these past three years."

"I'll just wear one of the dresses I got," Iris decides with a shrug, and when it frowns. "The one I wore on Saturday? Y-you liked it, don't deny it. It's green, but..."

"It's an adequate business casual dress, yes," he conceded but tilts his head and purses his lips before adding. "Iris, you're going to have dinner with Fran-cisco Ra-mon. If he sees you in that dress, he'll buy the store you got it from just to get access to the factory that made it, and will forbid them from making it ever again."

"You're joking," Iris deadpans, then thinks better. "Alright! Alright, I trust you to pick...why a few dresses? I only need the one!"

He blinks again, many times in a few seconds.

"We will attend a few shows in the next months," he reminds her, "and I know that we're being discreet, but we could get away with a few public dates without raising suspicions, right?"

"Being discreet," she repeats, blinking in turn, and he just nods.

"I need to go, I'm catching a bus," he then warns her before opening the door. "See you at the first studio tomorrow?"

That big kid's smile he flashes her makes him look like a classy waiter, what with the tray sitting on top of his open palm.

"Stop here first and fill my thermos to the brim," she instructs as she points to said thermos sitting on top of her shelves. "I'm not dealing with scorned women and a scorned man, all of them divas, without liquid power."

"You got it, boss!" He chirps before walking out.

She stands where he leaves her for ten good minutes, feeling like her life is going off the rails but being too numb about it, before deciding that she'll just demand honest answers from Mason right after the marketing team meeting on Thursday afternoon.

* * *

"Iris?"

She almost spill her arabica on what looks like very expensive silk when she hears that familiar voice. Barry went ahead to confirm that they can meet with one of the models in her dressing room.

"Eddie, hi," she greets before he even reaches her.

She's not surprised, just disappointed that the Central City fashion world is so small that her project is having her meet her ex first thing in the morning.

He looks great, of course, dressed in a navy three-pieces that contrast with his golden hair and brings out his clear-sky blue eyes. She blinks at the expert little steps he makes to avoid some light tech rushing without looking ahead.

"How did you find me?" He asks with a big smile that reaches his eyes.

Say what, now?

"The friends finder app, right? Duh," he answers himself when she takes a sip that should tell him something. "Did you try to call? I left my phone in a locker. Wow, I was just thinking about you the other day—"

"I'm here for work," she deadpans when she takes her lips away from her thermos, waving the hand holding her tablet, stylet, recorder, and the cap of the thermos when he freezes.

The hand was hidden underneath her trench coat, so she forgives his ridiculous assumption.

"Work?" He repeats skeptically as he gives her quick once over. "Like that?"

Right. Three years ago, the only time she would've worn that red sheath [dress](https://www.nyandcompany.com/off-the-shoulder-sweater-sheath-dress/A-prod21710115/?An=102626&prodNo=4) would've been to a date with him. She couldn't embarrass her fashion model boyfriend by wearing her earth-toned shirts, blazers and pencil skirts...nor by wearing her curly hair in neat low buns.

To be fair, she was planning on tying up her hair in a neat low bun, but her new PA told her that her curly fro would make her blend in. Indeed, every model's hair in this studio is curly. Apparently that's the signature look for this particular designer. Those gotta be wigs, right? Iris can't imagine the amount of time, heat and product it would take to achieve that on white women's hair, just for them to need a new hairstyle for their next gig. Iris' own curls wouldn't be so "gorgeous"—Allen's first word to her as he passed her thermos, so she's only now processing it—if she hadn't accidentally wet her corn rows in the shower this morning. She reapplied product before blasting her hair dryer. If there's one thing Francine taught her, one of the few things that was just for her and not related to raising Wally, it's to never, ever, let her hair shrink. Stretched hair, always, _"or you'll get frustrated and end up smearing that cancer-giving creamy crack on your scalp believing that it will make it more manageable."_

"People change, Mr. Thawne," Iris tells her ex before gingerly moving her hand to seal her thermos.

"Thawne?"

Iris and Eddie turn towards the tight voice, and she blinks at the shell-shocked look on Barry Allen, who looks like some of the interns in his turtle neck, fitted jeans, functional boots and he especially looks like a low-ranking errand person because his jacket is tied around his waist and he's got messenger bag slung over his left shoulder.

But he's way hotter than any intern here. Seeing his wide shoulders so neatly outlined makes Iris want to step outside for a little cold breeze because she can't get the feel of propping her legs on those shoulders out of her mind.

"Barry Allen?" Eddie says much too loudly, and Iris finally notices that there's actual music playing in the background because all activities significantly slow down or freeze for a few seconds.

Mild accidents happen when everyone resume their frantic movements, but other than that people pretend that they didn't hear anything. Even though Snart then Mason caught her up yesterday, Iris is surprised at the weight that her very own PA's name carry in the local fashion world.

"Ah, yeah, hello Eddie," Allen greets as he walks closer, his facial expression back to business friendly.

He pauses a few feet from reaching Iris' arm length to tilt his head at an intern trying to take a picture with his cellphone. One would think that he's posing, but his scowl says it all.

"You look in good health? Since when?" Eddie interrogates the former superstar who walks between him and Iris. "Did you find my uncle?"

"Woah!" Iris reacts, then leans to the side to stare at her ex past Allen's tall frame to ask, "Eobard Thawne is your uncle? You said that you were the only one in your family who's into fashion!"

Eddie winces, and Allen raises a curious eyebrow before relieving her of her thermos, which he slots onto the bottle pocket of his bag. Then he slowly takes her coat and drapes it over his arm.

"Thank you," she forces herself to say at normal volume and accompany the words with a nod. Normally she wouldn't thank her PA for doing what he's paid to do, but considering that her instinct was to whisper the words and give him a soft smile...that's much better.

"Your uncle better use up all my money to get plastic surgery and build himself a new life," is so not what she expects to hear her PA say as he turns towards Eddie.

Wow. The underlying threat there is really dark.

"Everyone told you to fire him, I know that," Eddie tells him, pointing a thumb at himself. "Did you really never wonder why he wasn't my agent?"

That little snort from Allen right there? It gives Iris a bad feeling...

"I didn't even know you existed until after my coma, when I started looking for my agent and my money."

Iris places a loose fist in front of her mouth and looks away from Eddie's stunned expression...just in time to catch two techs react to the conversation, which they have no business listening in. One clearly mouthes a prolonged "damn," and the other grimaces before moving on to whatever he's supposed to do.

"Patty's ready for our meeting, Miss West," Allen says, extended his arm forward.

Iris hisses a quick "sorry!" to the intern who almost crashed into a light tech because she had to avoid her PA's arm.

"Wait, how do you two know each other?" Comes Eddie's belated question after she nods him goodbye.

Iris looks straight ahead to avoid the scrutiny from the people who clearly make way for her—well for Barry—all the way to a dress room.

The tall blue-eyed blonde waiting for them is the prototype model. Iris thinks she's pretty, and yup she was right: there's a curly blonde wig right on the vanity, whereas Patty's own hair is straight. The pinch of her red-painted lips betrays her mean girl attitude before she even says a word, but Iris is a professional so she extends her right hand as she walks closer to the high chair where the model sits like she's on the proverbial pedestal.

"Miss Spivot, it's nice meeting—"

"That's your boss, Barry? Really?" The model asks the PA over Iris' shoulder. "You couldn't work for an average Joe like all broke people?"

Iris lowers her hand to press the record key on her recorder and to get on the note-taking app of her tablet. She also got her list of models and designers that Snart wants in on the project.

"The head of the marketing department is an average Joe," Allen actually replies with a shrug. "Does that count?"

"Don't plagiarize Snart," Spivot talks back as she turns around to fluff her wig. "I know that you're nowhere as witty as you make her think you are."

"What do you think of Mr. Snart proposal of the fashion week, Miss Spivot?" Iris asks the model, who glares at her via the mirror.

"Do I look like I'm paid to think?" She throws, and isn't that...is she insulting herself?

"You're the best-paid runway model in the city," Iris points out as she approaches to show her the list of designers. "And the most popular. Whose dresses do you think your fans would like to see you walk in on the runway?"

She keeps her professional smile, her eyes on her tablet screen, while she feels the gaze of that supermodel on her.

"Definitely not DeVoe," she answers, then honest to God she shoos Iris away with her hand before going back to fixing the wig. "The others are fine...if waiting forever to receive the other half of my paycheck is fine."

"That's why Mr. Snart is going through us, Miss Spivot," Iris immediately reassures her. "You'll receive your payment in full even before you dazzle the audience with your first outfit. CCPN prides itself with—"

Iris shuts up and take a cautious half-step back at the same time because the model abruptly turned around, but she isn't directing her emotions at her. She's staring right at Allen.

"Oh, Barry," she coos, her smile looking cruel. "Karma finally caught up to you, huh? Found someone who's got the same work ethics as you...but she's your boss."

Iris remains quiet only because she's scared of giving herself away somehow. She knows very well what Spivot means here, and though it's none of that woman's business Iris feels incredibly guilty for her lack of professionalism yesterday. It shouldn't have happened, and shouldn't happen again.

"Look at her," Spivot adds as she herself inspects Iris. "The outfit is a few seasons late, but it is high end and it fits like a glove. Rich, smart, accomplished and...so...pretty. Oh girl, with three more inches you would've ruled the runway."

Is Iris supposed to say 'thank you' here? She doesn't. The supermodel clearly doesn't mind because she looks at Allen again with a Cheshire smile.

"I like her. Tell Snart that he chose well. I'm in."

Just like that? Iris knows better than to ask a diva if she's sure, so she thanks her with words and a nod, wishes her a great day and good luck for the photoshoot, and walks out of the room without thanking her PA for opening the door.

The other meetings take less time: the three other women and one of the men do throw a few passive-aggressive comments at Allen, but when they hear the names of the previous models who are already in and learn about the expedient pay, they smile at Iris as if she was their best friend telling them that she's organizing their birthday party.

"Why doesn't Snart just use you two to advertise his stupid fashion week?" The last model asks with a frown.

He's short. Not shorter than Iris, but shorter than what she expects from a runway model.

Is he truly a runway model? His name is Hartley Rathaway...as in Rathaway Realty? All the studios they've been to rent from his parents, right? Maybe that's how he got in despite not matching the requirements to be on the runway.

"Neither of us are models, Mr. Rathaway," Iris politely points out, not bothering to record or take notes at this point.

"You're not?" He asks her with a frown and two once overs, back to back. "I thought you were wearing that old stuff to make a statement or something."

"I told you that she's my boss," Allen reminds him with a sigh.

"I took it as she's the woman who finally put you in your place!" Rathaway admits as he grabs his phone and waves it in his hand. "Everyone's talking about her, saying that she's avenging us so many years later."

"Avenging?" Allen repeats, then scoffs. "And you wonder why I didn't want to fuck any of you. Pretty but petty asses."

"Mr. Allen!" Iris reprimands him, and he looks shocked by her outburst but after a few seconds breathes out a "sorry, Miss West."

"Why are you apologizing to me?" She ask, crossing her arms over her chest and lifting an expectant eyebrow.

He gapes at her, purses his lips, then finally look at Rathaway and mumbles "my bad."

"What was that?" Iris asks at a much higher volume, feeling like Cisco Ramon's soul twin or something.

"Apologies, Mr. Rathaway," he rephrases in a clear and intelligible voice.

Mr. Rathaway in questions stares between Iris and her PA with wide eyes, then gives her three slow claps and snickers with his mouth wide open.

"I don't need to get paid," he then tells Iris after snapping his fingers and pointing at her, "so feel free to take my paycheck, Miss West. Oh, this campaign is gonna be fu-un!"

Iris starts feeling terrible for her reaction at her PA's misconduct, especially when the guy is still laughing when they leave his extravagant dress room.

"Should...do you want to buy lunch ahead of time? My treat," she offers to pacify him when they approach the exit doors of the studio.

She's definitely not apologizing. He was rude to one of their clients. She can't tolerate that. She won't let him be a terrible PA just because he gave her one orgasm! No way!

"I need to finish my online training," he responds flatly.

Well, she did try to be nice at least. His loss.

They head back to the office, and for the first hour she makes phone calls to update Mr. Snart and follow up with other clients, emptying her thermos. Meanwhile Allen gets his training down on the couch, sitting like he's the actual boss and drinking his own coffee—it smells different from hers but it smells just as heavenly.

Then she sends a few emails, works on a few flyer designs and emails Allen the file of the one flyer she's satisfied with. She always makes her PA print from the laptop to make sure that the quality of the flyer is on par when the clients print them for a preview. Iris is pleasantly surprised when Allen stands up from his seat and announces that he's headed to print the flyer. She clearly left instruction in the body of the email saying that it didn't need to be done until after lunch. There's still three quarters of an hour to go before lunch. It's been a very productive morning because the meetings with the models didn't last long.

She's taking a personal break by browsing books on practical advice about climbing the ranks in Corporate America when Allen returns and places six flyers instead of two next to her computer mouse. She knows because he spreads them and lines them up in three rows.

"This one's the original printed copy," she says when he taps on the first flyer, which as Iris feared looks too dull. The next one looks a bit too bright, a few colors are almost washed out. Allen taps on it next. "This one is the copy I got when I tweaked the brightness on the printer settings."

He moves up to the next row. Those two look better, in fact the second one would look perfect if the silver edges weren't almost invisible.

"I scanned the brightened version and emailed it to myself," Allen explains as he points to the first one. "Then printed that one. The silver edges came out wrong even when I tweaked the brightness again. I just finished my training on how to use the image editor, so I opened the scanned version of the flyer on it and directly tweaked the brightness of those edges before printing that final copy."

The final row of flyer has exactly what she wants: a perfect printed copy and an acceptable color copy of it.

"This is great work!" Iris says as she takes those final version, and even smiles to convey how pleased she is.

He smiles back and replies, "Thanks, Miss West. I emailed you that final version."

"Perfect!" She says, and doesn't mind him coming around to her side of the desk when she checks the email in question to open the file on the editor. "Yes, I should've dulled those edges myself. Good eye, Mr. Allen! And good job completing the online training. You're the first one to complete it so quickly after—ahem!"

He's placed his hands on her desk...one on each side of her. He's too damn close and making her feel uncomfortable...in a good way? No, how's uncomfortable ever good?

"Who's Eddie Thawne to you?" He asks her in a voice so devoid of warmth that it makes her shiver.

"What?" She squeaks.

"Eddie Thawne," he repeats then bends over to add just few inches from her ear, "golden pretty boy from the first studio?"

"That's none of your business, Mr. Allen," she responds as calmly as she can with his body all around her like that. "Don't ruin this great moment by going back to being difficult."

"Difficult, huh?" He reacts, then laughs in her hair before kissing her temple.

She freezes and just...sits there. She should push him away, right? Earlier she decided that yesterday was a one time thing. What if Mason walks in again?

"Your hair looks lovely," he compliments her in a soft tone while he runs his nose down her cheek, "but expect Cisco to crack a Whitney Houston joke. 'I Wanna Dance With Somebody' is one of his favorite songs, so..."

"Ah," is all Iris says to that interesting piece of information on the famous fashion designer.

Barry Allen drops a feather-light kiss on her cheekbone, then brings his lips back to her ear. "Who's Eddie Thawne to you?"

"M-my ex," she gives in, then turn her head to look up at him, "Mr. Allen, anyone could walk in on us...we shouldn't...yesterday was a mistake, and I apologize for leading you on, truly I'm sorry. But this can't go on."

"You don't want to date me anymore?" He asks as he leans away from her, but his arms are still bracketing her.

"This isn't about what I want," she tells him in a rushed whisper. "We're at work, and you're my PA! This is highly inappropriate, and you know it. Miss Spivot clearly implied that—"

She exhales in panic when he holds her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"That was before," he informs her. "Like Mr. Bridge told you last night, my agent was a bad, bad man...so I had to be a good boy. I had to be professional at all times and leave those roaring wild cats in the dust. The secret to fame isn't to be tough, you see. The secret is to be fast. And I was the fastest of them all. But where did that get me?"

"Umm...here?" Iris answers dumbly, and when he gasps she fears that she's offended him.

But then he chuckles.

"Good girl," he whispers, and kisses Iris' responding gasp right off her lips.

Oh God, he's such a good kisser! Iris guiltily savor that coffee-flavored kiss, then tries to lean away when her neck starts aching from straining upward. Allen leans away too, and she whimpers her regret when he licks his lips, but then he moves quickly to bring his arm from her other side. She hums in surprise when her chair locks and the next thing she knows he's taking her face in his hands.

It's ridiculous how soft his hold on her is, because she feels trapped in his next kiss—maybe because now he has a knee propped on her seat right next to her thigh. Or maybe it's because that kiss is deeper, almost possessive, but she gives back as much as she gets and that quickly gets her aching for him. 

She wet her hair in the shower because she was distracted thinking about him, about the fact that she spent longer than was comfortable reading the labels on boxes of condoms at the convenience store. Of course most sizes fit all, that was so silly of her...but when she rode her dildo last night size was all she could think about and now she just wants him to fuck her.

So when he slides his hands to her arms, detaches his lips from hers with a wet sound and whispers "come on," she readily stands up.

She thinks that he's going to put the flyers away and so she can lie down on the desk, but then he stops her from climbing it with a gentle hand on her throat. She freezes, keeping herself braced against the wooden surface but lowering her lifted leg.

"Oh, no no no," he tells her with a quiet little laugh. "There's not enough time for that, baby. And frankly, after what you did in front of Hartley, I don't think you deserve it."

Iris tenses up, but if he notices he doesn't comment on it. He takes his hand away from her neck and carefully pushes her hair to the side before making her moan with his hot lips on her neck and his warm hands on her breasts. The kisses don't stop, but his hands slide down to the hem of her dress and slide underneath it.

"Jesus Christ, Miss West," he whimpers against the skin of her neck before leaning away to watch as he pulls her dress up. "Do you not own any underwear?"

"Pantyhose are underwear," she readily replies, and gasps when he pulls her hips back so there's room between her and the desk and he can pull the dress all the way to her waist.

"I w-wanna...are you..." he seems to lose himself for a moment behind her. "Fuck, Iris. I don't even know why I'm surprised, I keep ogling you in the staircase. My own glutes ache from following you up the stairs."

Oh, he likes her ass, huh? And he was about to ask something earlier. She's got an idea of what it was.

"You can spank me," she allows what sounded like a big no yesterday. "But not too hard, I don't...not too hard."

"Next time," he promises then yanks her pantyhose down, and Iris drops on her forearms when he moans because he can see that she's soaking wet. She expects him to get on with it but he takes a few minutes to tease her.

She's bent over her desk, ass in the air, legs splayed, and she's getting frustrated by the way he avoids her clit and her entrance. She knows what he's trying to do, she knows that he gets off riling her up, his insubordinate attitude proves it, but she needs his long and thick fingers in her right now so she—

"Mr. Allen!" Her shout is muffled by her sleeves but he hears her just fine and it's clearly what he wanted to hear because he immediately slips two fingers in her.

She comes not even five minutes later, and that orgasm is so intense that she doesn't notice that her right hand reached out to one of the flyers and that she wrinkled it a bit when her body tensed up. Now she can feel the paper in her fingers, and she presses on it harder when she hears and feels Allen go down on his knees. She bites her lips hard when she hears him suck his fingers before he licks her directly.

Right then she decides that this project will be her last with CCPN. She'll resign afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Still twenty some minutes to go here. Let's have an excellent 2021 West-Allen Fam! Stay safe and take good care my friends 💛💛💛


	5. Stay Here With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! Here's a longer chapter to make up for the late update.
> 
> KillerVibe makes a proper appearance, finally! I didn't mean to clickbait you KillerVibe friends! The plot just keeps getting thicker on its own, smh.
> 
>  **Edit alert** : 1/Iris needs to punch in 28hrs of office time, not 18 lol that's too nice; 2/ The campaign for the fashion week doesn't launch in 6 months, it ends in six months and it yet has to start. Does that make the project sound properly challenging now 🤣 I know close to nothing about fashion and barely more about marketing, btw.

Iris is very, very irresponsibly sitting on her desk and frenching her PA.

Her dress is bunched up to her hips and her legs are wide open. Her pantyhose are back on, yet she really feels exposed with her croch out like that, but she doesn't close her legs yet. Allen's hands are on her thighs, so maybe he wants to do something? She doesn't ask because her tongue is a bit busy licking her own come from his lips.

When the kiss turns less dirty but remains arousing because Allen is stupidly skilled with his mouth, Iris notes that he's keeping his pelvis a safe distance from hers. She appreciates it because now that she's got condoms in her purse all she can think about is getting properly fucked on this very desk and that's so unprofessional...but what they're doing right now isn't professional either!

"We shouldn't," she says when she turns her head to the side, but she doesn't finish her sentence because Allen just starts kissing her neck. "Mr. Allen...stop!"

He hums loudly against her pulse point before leaning away, and she almost pulls him back in for another kiss because he looks so forbiddingly sexy with the way he takes quick breaths through his swollen lips, and the way the flush of his cheeks seems to keep going past the collar of his turtleneck. Even as his pupils recede, his eyes remains glazed over for a few frantic beats of Iris' heart. 

"S-sorry," he apologizes, his croaking voice and his fluttering long eyelashes beckoning her, but she controls herself. "You're just so...sorry."

She's so what? Irresistible? It would've been such a corny thing to say, but the fact that he trails off and bites his lips while looking down between her legs... yeah, okay, looks like he means it.

But they need to go. It's lunch time.

When he takes a step back she closes her legs, gingerly slips off her desk and pulls her dress down. She feels so strung up still so she spends more time than necessary looking down at herself...

...to avoid looking at Allen's hard-on...and she clears her throat in order to mask a moan because she just involuntarily flexed her Kegel muscles. Jesus, West. Get a grip!

He walks back to his desk to grab his laptop and goes back to the couch. How can his gait be so steady when he's clearly uncomfortable right now?

Right, right, former supermodel. He's probably done photoshoots in all types of dubious conditions...like the lightning storm that put him in a coma.

How did he recover from that, anyway? There isn't even a trace of trauma on him or anything. But two years is a long time to go through rehab, she supposes. 

"I looked up Hump Day Social," he tells her from the couch after a few minutes of silence. "Am I allowed to bring my own lunch?"

"I don't see why you wouldn't be," she answers, proud of her steady voice as she quickly sends the flyer to a current client who asked for a new designs at the last minute.

Mr. Snart won't need flyers, not when he and Dr. Wells are paying for no less than three ten-second teasers to be played on the LED screens that make up the street-facing side of the CCPN's building...all CCPN buildings.

Ten skyscrapers across the country. The ads will start running in June, every weekend, until the fashion week in September. One teaser each month."

If this campaign isn't successful, Rogues and S.T.A.R. Labs will lose a lot of money. So Iris better get everything right. 

Not on an empty stomach. After Allen worked her up she's low on energy...however indecent that sounds.

"Hey, did you like the sandwich you got at Joaquín's, yesterday?" She asks him. "Wanna go back?"

"Oh, yeah," he answers with a smile. "I had no idea that food trucks served fresh stuff like that. If you hadn't been the one bringing me there, I would've never dared. The fact that he has so many vegan options blows my mind."

"He's smartly following the food trends," she comments as she puts her computer on sleep. "I found his truck while doing research for Big Belly Burger. They wanted to launch a veganuary service after some meat recall scandal."

"I'm grateful for the trend," he whispers more than he says as he grabs his messenger bag. 

"Why's that?" She asks without thinking, then backpedals, "sorry, of course that's none of my business."

"Your boyfriend's dietary restrictions are none of your business, huh?" He replies with a amused scoff.

Oh. Right! Boyfriend. It's not fully sunk in her head that she's secretly dating her PA because it goes against her usual ethics...

Wait a minute...that's why Allen didn't bother correcting Joaquín's assumption yesterday! He'd meant to ask her out from the start...obviously. And Joaquín's gonna know because Iris herself can't confirm nor deny his assumption anymore. Ugh!

"Do you have allergies or is that a runway model thing?" She asks like a good girlfriend would, then dumbly points out, "your skin looks really nice...I mean, um, that's important, right? A clear skin. For models."

"It is," he agrees with less mirth that she expected after the way she's fumbled, "but it was Thawne who imposed the diet on me."

He says it without joy but without bitterness either. Interesting.

They go quiet while walking past the cubicles, and Iris isn't surprised to hear "Barry Allen," "Supermodel" or "Lightning accident, right?" since by now the rumors from HR have had the time to reach the marketing floors.

"When I met Thawne I was depressed and underweight," Allen confesses when they have privacy again in the staircase. "Like so many other models, women and men, because of the stupidly restrictive diet that someone somehow decided was best for us. I was so clueless at the start of my career, and I was frustrated about being a trend follower whereas I grew up doing my own thing, never caring for anyone's opinion. Well, except for the opinion of my private tutee turned high school girlfriend. Becky would drive her Porsche halfway across town to pick me up just so I could be her bag carrier whenever she went on a shopping spree...every other weekend."

Woah. Iris hadn't cared to know (she'd never had a serious boyfriend until Eddie tried to be one, so she's never pried for information) but this explains how an emancipated foster kid like Allen met a spoiled rich brat like Cooper.

"I was an athlete in secondary school," he recounts with detachment. "Track and field. Brought a few medals home. That's why Becky thought I was worth her time, if you were wondering. She didn't actually learn anything from my tutoring: I just did her homework and gave her cheat sheets for her tests. The pay was too good for me to disappoint her parents. They overpaid me because I was still cheaper than whoever they'd have to bribe in order to make their daughter's academic profile look good for college."

Ugh, Cooper's had it so easy all her life. And she dared say that Allen was nothing without her? He's the one who got her into the prestigious university that helped her land her career! The nerves?

For a second Iris guesses that Allen's full scholarship was an athletic one, but then she remembers all the honors societies he got into in college, typed in tiny print on his resumé...nah, he was a brilliant student too.

So was she, which is one of the many reasons why her parents resent her skipping her higher education. Well, sorry for not wanting to start her adult life by accumulating debts! None of her top three universities offered merit scholarships, including her parents' alma mater! And they couldn't support her financially the way they always thought they would.

Before Francine started her treatment for McGregor, the West family was comfortable, very much so: Iris' dad is a Blues singer, and Iris rarely saw his face until Wally was born because he performed at fancy, fully-booked venues around the country. When he didn't fly first class, he flew in the private jets of the people whose classy parties he helped make even classier.

Francine was a legal counsel for big institutions and stupidly rich companies and families. Not even Eric today could've afforded her back in the day. Her clients were friends with the Coopers and the Rathaways.

After Francine got diagnosed with MacGregor's Syndrome, Joe settled for being an adjunct music professor to be home with his wife, who became...Iris doesn't even know if her mom still works.

It wasn't the reason why she started working at CCPN, but when Iris realized that Eric was paying her more than she'd expected for her budget plan, she started saving to help her dad stay afloat after paying Wally's private school, Francine's medical bills, and a few vacations here and there because changing lifestyle wasn't easy. Iris knows that her support became significant when she got her one promotion, because Wally stopped sounding miserable on the phone. He'd started panicking about their dad looking at smaller houses and calling public schools.

The public schools in their area are great anyways, but Iris would've rather died than have Wally resent her for going to more prestigious schools than him...and then she hadn't even gone to college with her stellar academic records. Back then Iris was grateful for keeping in touch with her baby brother even though it was just him calling her to accuse her of abandoning him and their mom. For years he had the same angry and bitter rhetoric and Iris just let him vent because she truly was guilty of abandoning him. 

She basically raised him until he was twelve years old because their parents were rarely home. She didn't have a social life as a teenager because of that, but she loved her brother and had imagined that she'd enjoy herself in college anyway. Then her mom got diagnosed with MacGregor's Syndrome. It was apparently triggered by years of her secretly using recreational drugs to 'stay on top of her game' when she dived back into work after Wally.

Iris blamed her mother for her own tragedy: the gene runs in her family and the only other person who died from it was her party monster cousin who also did drugs. And when Francine stole Iris' first paycheck trying to get her fix right after her rehab...it was just a stipend that Eric granted her because her volunteering had been quite hands on and he hoped that she'd come back as a proper intern. Iris was going to buy her prom dress with it since her dad refused to spend money on "too grown" dresses.

Chris, a senior, had invited her and she hadn't replied yet because she'd suspected that her dad wouldn't let her go. But with the stipend she could afford her own dress and she could carpool a limo with a few other girls who wouldn't mind taking her because she always had handy stuff on her and knew self-defense.

But her mom ruined her chance, and Iris remembers wishing that Francine had sniffed her white powder and gotten hospitalized again just so Iris wouldn't have to see her for a few days. But Wally had seen the cocaine in time and had flushed it down the toilet. So Iris had to take care of both her scared brother and her junkie mother.

When she understood that without a scholarship she would've to stay home even during college, she decided that it wasn't worth the debts. Living according to her parents' expectations wasn't worth anything if not for Wally.

So the writing piece award and Eric's offer for a full-time job seemed like the sweetest escape to her seventeen-year old self. Working all summer long got her enough saving for a tiny old apartment downtown, a twenty-minute bus ride away from the brand new CCPN. 

The work was hard but the pay was good. So good that now Iris is partly paying for Wally's tuition so that he'll start his adult life debt-free too.

Money will never replace the emotional support that she could've provided to her family...yet she can't feel much regret for making the decision she made when she was seventeen years old. Money isn't everything, but life is mighty hard without it in the world they live in.

"...alright?" Allen asks her with a concerned look when they reach the exit door without her realizing it.

"Yes, yes!" She answers. "Sorry, can you repeat like...everything you said in the last three minutes? Please. I promise that I care..."

She should be freaking out that she actually means that, right? They met three days ago! They work together, he's her PA! She shouldn't care!

She never asked her former PAs if they enjoyed the food places she took them to because that was her preference. She's got no idea about those other PAs' lives outside of whatever was on their resumés! They didn't feel comfortable sharing their lives with her anyway!

Maybe it's because Mason told Iris that the boundary between professional and personal life is blurry in the fashion world so she should get to know...oh, who is she kidding?

Barry Allen is a fascinating individual, a former superstar...and a future one too. When the campaign ends successfully and he goes back to the fashion world, he'll move on from Iris. She will be left with just the memories of the six months they'll have together. She should make the best of it, right? One day she'll tell her kids that Barry Allen worked for her.

Her heart does something that conveys displeasure with her train of thoughts. She ignores it.

"No, really," she insists with a forced smile. "Tell me, Mr. Allen."

She walks outside but has to stop because he's remained still in front of the automatic doors. He stares at her for a moment, ignoring the people who stare at him too—either because they recognize him or because he's making them zigzag to exit the building as they rush out to get to their favorite lunch place.

"Thawne told me that I was meant for greatness," he resumes talking once he catches up to her, not telling her why he just stood there. "That I wasn't meant to be a sheep and definitely not meant to let my body waste away. He told me that if I stuck to his own personal fitness and nutrition regimen—backed up by empirical science, that's why I stick to it even now—and trusted his plan, then I'd be a champion again. I wouldn't be a sheep but one of the fiercest wildcats of the runway. He told me that my name would be as widely known as that of the best-paid women in the industry...within a decade of our partnership, because I'd be so fast rising to ther top that I'd leave my fellow male models in the dust."

And he hadn't lied, had he? He mentored Allen from age...23 to 27? In four years he made Allen the most famous model of the local industry and well-known on a national and international level. He was getting up there with the likes of Oliver Queen and Clark Kent...

Iris doesn't know what to say as they cross the busy downtown street. She's good with slogans and commercial punchlines, but not with intimate pep talk.

"I don't hate him because he took my money, you know?" Allen tells her when they reach the other side. "Until I graduated college I lived on the strict minimum. I'm back to living in my old neighborhood, and only my ego is bruised by that. If I didn't have crazy bills to pay I'd be content with my life as it is right now."

He throws her a shy smile at that and Iris has even less to say.

He's content being her PA? Okay. She isn't flattered at all. Eric pays well, but the office life makes the paycheck feel worth less than it truly is. All the gossiping just ruins it!

That's the reason why, a few months after Iris got her big office and her own PA instead of working with a team of assistants...she brought another desk in that office. No way she was letting her PA be distracted or influenced by their unprofessional coworkers. Eric and Mason approved the treatment of favor because they knew how much more productive she herself had become in isolation. 

When she saw Linda Park's potential as an intern, Iris just knew that she had to protect the younger woman from the toxic environment. Iris is glad that Miss Park doesn't resent her for the 'intense' training. It seems that Linda even suspects that Iris had been grooming her to become her PA. She definitely wanted to stick with her as a woman of color. But things didn't turn out that way.

Miss Park deals with the cubicle people like all the other PAs because Evans didn't make room for her in his equally big office. He knows how it is for them minorities, and Linda is a tiny young woman...asshole.

Or rather, coward, because he's probably worried about the rumors that would circulate about him and Park if they spent hours alone behind the closed doors. They're unlocked! What could—

Shit.

Iris feels like the worst human being in the world when she reminds herself that the unlocked door didn't stop her from getting oral sex from her new PA. Twice now.

Then she reminds herself that she will resign after this project. She's gone too far. 

"And like I told Becky, he left me with the best caretakers available," Allen keeps going. "I owe him my full recovery, but he put me in that coma in the first place. Three years of my life, just gone. And because he kept me locked up away from everyone, my own friends forgot about me. I'm aware that my own actions made them resent me, but...Len was helping me make amends and straighten up my image. He's not perfect, nobody is spotless in our world...but most are saints compared to Thawne. You saw what I did to clean up my mess, things I didn't even know I'd caused until Snart sat me down and told me what nobody else dared to. Things that Thawne supposedly did for me."

Right. After Mason told her that Thawne was an 'unsavory character,' it was easy for Iris to guess why Allen had done all those dubiously ethical side projects.

Iris wants to despise Eddie's uncle, but is she any better? She's...done things with her direct subordinate. She's planning on doing more. She doesn't have a high moral ground to stand on anymore.

"I knew that he wasn't an angel but I just didn't want to recognize that I'd made a pact with the devil," Allen confesses, oblivious to her internal struggle. "Because at the start of our partnership he proved that he was dependable. But it was just the one time. When I finished cleaning up my own mess as much as I could thanks to Snart, I confronted Thawne. We exchanged a few strong words, but in the end he agreed with my decision not to renew our contract. He said that he'd taught me everything he could anyways, whether or not I appreciated the fallout of the lessons. It's true. Thawne is many things, but not a liar. He didn't even lie by omission, he used euphemisms and I'm the one who decided to interpret them in ways that allowed me to get my beauty sleep. Because, what was the point of being fairplay? I didn't have the same connections as the others did. I refused to sleep my way to the top and got backlash for it...and for refusing to get drunk or sniff coke or swallow random pills with big names in the industry. I even got thrown under the bus for reporting a case of sexual harassment!"

As they approach the food trucks area, Iris' stomach drops because she remembers that if Allen reports her for sexual harassment before the six months are up...she's done for.

"So yeah, I was grateful to Thawne deep down. So when he said that he wanted our partnership to end on a high note..."

"The lightning storm photoshoot," Iris guesses, managing to sound properly invested in the story. "It was so dangerous that the whole city was on curfew, I remember that. How did you get people to make that shoot happen in the first place?"

"Thawne," was his short answer. "But I don't blame the photographer or the tech team. "With no modesty whatsoever, I was just that big of a name in the city, especially when I made my own connection in Star City—Mr. Bridge was misinformed that Len helped me with that."

"Right, Snart told me that you're the one who introduced local talents to the Star City crowd," Iris recalls, then reflects out loud. "So Mr. Rathaway's question was pertinent, right? Why isn't Snart just using you?"

"Like he told you, no one's going to make room for me," Allen reminded her. "Hartley is petty but he gives credit where credit is due. He's the only one who'd admit that I'm still relevant...that stroke my ego, but then the way he and the others were talking about you..."

"I can defend myself," she immediately reacts with a little snort. "When there's a need for it. Why should I care about what fashion divas have to say about me?"

She says that but she somehow feels like a failure for not matching those strangers' expectations. She no longer has the commendable work ethics that she's been so proud of for the past 12 years...

"Because I care," Allen actually answers.

"What?" She reacts, blinking at him.

"In any case, Len knows better than to self-sabotage his campaign by putting me in the center of things," he goes back to their previous topic. "Especially since my own connections aren't being supportive..."

"Are we talking about Wells or Ramon?" Iris questions right before they get in line for Joaquín's truck.

"Yes," he answers cryptically.

* * *

"That's your new boss?" A woman with an odd British accent asks Allen while he smoothly pulls out Iris' chair at Frankie's.

She's blonde and her uniform-like dress suit makes her look like a flight attendant missing her hat. 

Iris shouldn't judge just because she's looking like a runway model. Seriously, she's relieved that she didn't have to pay for the five designer dresses. Allen didn't pay for them either, unless the compliments he gave the star-struck employees of the expensive retail store count as payment in the fashion world. 

She was worried that even in a 'winter' dress she would be cold on this patio, but the term patio doesn't really apply here: the place is completely covered, but the three walls and ceiling are all see-through glass.

The view on the river and downtown Keystone City is gorgeous...but Iris can't fully enjoy it because this woman is being rude.

"I'm only asking because Matt said that you have an 8 to 5 now," the lady specifies as she hands them the wine menu. "She doesn't look like 8 to 5."

"Miss West, meet Leslie Jocoy, the owner of this fine dining establishment," Allen says in a flat tone that makes Miss Jocoy roll her eyes. "Amunet, this is my boss Iris West."

"Oh," the blonde woman reacts, and her facial expression turns very professional. "I'm sorry, Miss West. It's just...you're a few inches from looking exactly his type."

"You're not the first to think that," Iris realizes with a frown.

Iris looks nothing like Becky, but Allen dated her in high school. Of course he's dated other women since. Were they all black women or what?

"Anyways, I'm out for the night," Miss Jocoy announces with a pointed look at Allen while she beckons a waiter. "Don't make me regret the time when you were gone and I didn't have to worry about your people scaring away my customers."

She gives Iris another glance.

"You look lovely, darling," she says with a smile that actually reaches her eyes before she pivots on her heels and walks away.

"Your pick," Allen announces after the waiter introduces himself and Iris orders a wine she remembers her dad receiving as gift when he retired from the scene.

Matthew Norvock himself brings the wine while the waiter adds an additional table set. Iris and her PA stop identifying the tallest buildings from across the river to look questioningly at the restaurant manager.

"Please, man," Mr. Norvock pleads Allen at a low voice. "Don't let them scare our clientele away again. I don't care for their money, that doesn't buy back the trust of our regular diners!"

"Don't worry," Allen reassures him with a confident smile and a quick glance at Iris. "I came with the help."

Norvock eyes a confused Iris and does a double take as if he just realized who she is. Then he nods with conviction.

"Hope you enjoy the evening, ma'am," he says politely with the quick smile of people who aren't used to smiling so much.

He nods again, looking calmer, before walking away. The waiter promises amuse bouches before following suit.

"You've said that before," Iris recalls, "that I'm the help. For the campaign, right? Why would the manager of this restaurant ca—"

"I was in Milan!" Ramon announces his arrival with a shout. "How was I supposed to be here for you?! You wouldn't even answer my calls!

"Your two calls that I missed because I was too busy reading all the nasty stuff your fans wrote about me!" A woman's voice speaks just as loudly.

Iris' eyes go wide while the other diners start whispering.

"Ready?" Allen asks her as he stands up and she does too, ready to either shake hands orget ignored...

...because walking and bickering alongside Francisco Ramon is Caitlin Snow, a famous fashion event organizer.

She's earned the nickname 'Killer Frost' because of some liquid nitrogen accident at a fashion show where her mother's winter collection was the most expected part of the event. A few models were hospitalized but fully recovered, yet the press heavily criticized Miss Snow's idea to have a frosty fog on the runway...all the more because it was inspired by a recent Vibe show during which holograms of snow flakes made the runway more magical.

Iris read the whole story because she intends to make Miss Snow join the campaign. Iris herself has little idea how a fashion show is organized and it's difficult to get a hold of someone willing to discuss the numbers of a fashion campaign with an outsider. But since Allen modeled for Snow's fashion designer mother Carla Tannhauser a few times, Iris was planning on asking him to connect her with Snow if she didn't get anybody else to help her out by Thursday.

It's only now that Iris recalls Allen mentioning a Caitlin when he was on the phone with Ramon yesterday. Does that mean...

"He's a local?" She concludes with a quiet voice. "Francisco Ramon is from Central City?

Now...now the free dresses make sense, right? Because all those dresses are—

"Cait, oh my God," Ramon reacts after he freezes in his tracks upon seeing Iris.

Is it a good 'oh my God' or a bad one? Iris fears it's the latter when the designer rudely points a finger at her.

"Why do you never wear my dresses?" He asks his companion, who actually looking at Allen. "This could be you! You could be looking like a sun goddess instead of...is that even your mother's?" He asks when he grimaces at Miss Snow's appearance.

Iris now understands why the media calls her 'Killer Frost': she has a silver white wig on, thick black eyeliner with pale eyeshadow, deep blue lipstick black leather blazer dress, white gold jewelry, and black nail polish...oh and she wears heels that are thick enough that their ridiculous height won't break her neck. A bored expression complete that gothic chic look.

"Caitlin," Allen greets with a strange mix of annoyance and fondness. "Cisco. Norvock needs you two to behave, and I need you not to embarrass me in front of my boss. Please."

The two newcomers gape at him, then look back and forth between Allen and Iris. All in sync. If there was any doubt that they're long-time lovers...

"Barry, my man," Ramon says with a shake of his head and a wide smile, as he approaches the table, "you finally find someone who looks as goody-two-shoes as you and she's your boss? That's...wait a minute. Iris West? You're Iris West?" 

"Nice meeting you, Mr. Ramon," Iris greets with a professional smile and some satisfaction at seeing him grimace apologetically.

"Oh, don't lie!" He chides her as he not only shakes her hand but holds it between both of his. "I was such an ass to you yesterday!"

His hands feel well-used. He's not all talk, of course. Iris watched a few Vibe shows. He's not called a prodigy for nothing.

"It truly is a pleasure to meet someone who's gonna keep Snart and this guy right here out of trouble," Ramon declares with a long sigh. "You just ooze vibes of competency and impeccable work ethics. My dress helps, of course!"

Iris contains a smile. That was a silly but well-placed pun!

Caitlin Snow rolls her eyes at her boyfriend's joke.

"Miss Snow, I can't believe that we're meeting the very day I thought of you," Iris tells the event organizer, who blinks at the hand extending towards her this time. "As you know, this campaign is unprecedented, and I can't think of anyone better to—"

"Snart didn't ask for my help," the white-haired woman cuts her off as she draws her own chair, making it drag on the floor before sitting down.

Iris lowers her hand, not even shocked at this point. Of course she's a diva too.

"Don't worry, it's not you," Ramon cheerfully tells Iris as he walks around the table to reach Allen. "It's this guy's fault."

He stops short of arm's length of the former model, and the two men silently eye each other for a moment.

Iris notices a few diners looking on, and she hears rather than see the two guys hug each other. It's the squeezing type of bro hug.

"I didn't want to believe Snart," Iris only hears Ramon because she's sitting close by. "How?"

"Two years of rehab and Thawne's regimen," Allen answers as he shifts his arms to keep their hug going a little longer.

Okay, he still is Ramon's 'guy.'

Iris sees Snow scowling at the touching scene. What's her deal?

"That spawn of Satan isn't all useless, alright," Ramon acknowledges as he leans away. "He's out of your life for good, though?"

"Didn't give me a choice," Allen informs him with a shrug while their waiter offers the wine menu to Snow after placing small bites on the table. 

Allen definitely can't have those because there's cheese and ham.

Why did Ramon picks this place if his guy can't have anything but a salad? There are a few vegan-friendly restaurants in this district. They're definitely not as posh as Frankie's, but does that matter? 

Iris blinks when Snow waves the waiter away and pours herself the wine that Iris ordered. She even looks Iris straight in the eye while doing it, having guessed that it was her pick.

Okay, Iris needs an explanation from her PA as soon as they're alone.

"That's rude, Caitlin," Allen himself tells his...best friend's girlfriend. "Got a problem with me? You settle it with me. Miss West's serious about getting you on board with this campaign, by the way. I'm just her PA, nothing more. This could be your opportunity to shine—"

"I don't need your permission to shine!" The platinum blonde bits out as she almost slams the bottle back on the table. "I've been shining just fine while you were in the coma...because you tried to play gods."

Playing gods? O-kay?

Allen doesn't react, he just stares at Snow.

"Okay, fam, let's calm down," Ramon actually tries to diffuse the palpable tension by dropping a kiss on Snow's cheek. "Come on, Cait, for me? When was the last time I enjoyed a meal with my two favorite people at home, huh?

A meal that at least one of his favorite people can't enjoy! 

"Nobody's ever stopped you from visiting your own damn hometown," the scorned woman talks back, then surprises Iris by pulling Ramon by the collar of his tie-free shirt to plant a kiss on his lips.

Iris quickly grabs her wine glass and takes a sip of her wine to avoid watching the two lovers deepen their kiss, then she eyes her PA when the kiss is still happening seconds later. Allen readily whispers "that's normal" with a roll of his eyes.

"Don't leave me again," Snow commands her boyfriend, who simply nods in response.

Iris' chest twists when she sees the tenderness in the designer's eyes as he gazes at his girlfriend. His look can't be called anything but 'loving.'

It reminds her of the way her parents used to look at each other, back when Wally was still a new addition to the family.

Did the disease make them grow closer overtime, or is the resentment between them even worse now? Whenever Iris calls her dad the question burns her tongue. Wally has forgiven her, but he wants her to properly talk to their parents so he doesn't tell her anything about their relationship. Anyways, now he lives in the dorms, so his insight is limited. 

"West," Snow calls out, and Iris sits a little straighter in her seat.

Ramon says something to the waiter, she doesn't know what. Maybe his and his girlfriend's orders.

The white-haired woman glares at Allen once more before softening her gaze at Iris. Not by much, but on her austere face the difference is noticeable.

"If Snart's okay with me jumping on the campaign, we can be work friends," the event organizer promises. "That's it. I can't trust you because you have the same innocent and hard-working air that Barry had when we were in college."

"College?" Iris repeats dumbly.

"We were both pre-med students," Snow tells her. "Barry eventually got serious with modeling instead of following in his late father's step. That's what bonded us at first: trying to honor our dead fathers by becoming doctors like them. We didn't talk much, we weren't close, but we quickly learned that we both were emancipated at seventeen years old and—"

"You don't have to...there's no need to explain, Miss Snow," Iris reassures the other woman, an uncomfortable feeling setting in her chest.

"I have to," Snow insists. "As Cisco said, it's not you. I don't care what you personally think of me, but I need you to understand who your PA is, or at least who he used to be."

Iris nods, resigning herself to hearing about Allen's history with her future 'work friend.' Snow is his ex, isn't she?

Now it makes sense, right? Why Allen's acquaintances all assumed that Iris is his type. It's not about her being a black woman, it's about her being a no-nonsense career-oriented woman with a particular physique. If one ignores Snow's gothic look, she clearly is about the same size as Iris...maybe not the hips and butt, but like Ramon implied earlier Snow could be wearing the exact same dress as Iris...

"Unlike Barry who gave up on being a doctor because he was bent on proving his ex wrong, I stuck with the pre-med path," Snow explains. "But when I finished my internship at a hospital, I realized that the medical field wasn't for me. I had no idea what to do instead, being a doctor had been the goal of my life. Barry somehow found out that my mom is Carla Tannhauser and told me that since it was in my blood I should join him in the world of fashion. I certainly couldn't be a runway model like him, and I actually couldn't use my mother to make my way in the industry because I resented her for losing my custody when I was thirteen. Barry introduced me to Dr. Wells, who shocked us by introducing us to Francisco Ramon, a former protege of his. Cisco gave us flight tickets to Gate City where his last Vibe show would be cancelled if he didn't find an extra model and someone to keep things together."

"They saved my ass," Cisco declares between two bites of mini sandwich. "Obviously Barry got more recognition than Cait because he killed that runway. But I got myself two besties after that show, and that was more than I could ask for."

"And I got to reconnect with my mom, who attended the show" Miss Snow informs Iris. "She asked us to mend bridges that same day. You know how things are at fashion shows, the adrenaline and the magical atmosphere..."

Iris doesn't but she's not going to cut her off.

"I accepted to go back with my mom in Central City and build a proper career in event planning," Caitlin keeps going. "But after Barry told me that he was happy for me getting my mom's back, he told me that sticking with her for my career would be a mistake. That going from Vibe to some puny shows in Central City was backward, that now that we had some kind of momentum we should keep rolling. I didn't trust anyone in the industry to help me get to the top without asking anything in return...but I could trust my mom so I told Barry good luck with his shady future agent Thawne. Not even a year later, something happened to me."

Iris takes another sip of her wine.

"I mean, it wasn't that terrible, really," Snow reassures her.

Iris can feel Allen react...the image of a pissed off cat raising its hackles comes to mind.

"But it was bad enough for me to take a step back for a few months," Miss Snow amends with a sigh. "The guy was too big of a name for me to even fantasize about reporting him. He'd been called a god of fashion. When Barry heard wind of that via his agent Eobard Thawne, he encouraged me to report the sexual harassment."

She clears her throat and does a very poor imitation of Allen's pitch:

"'So what if the guy's a god? To be a god you only have to make others believe that you're one. Tell the world who that pig is, Caitlin, and he'll stop being a god. He'll stop being above the law. Then you'll become the god. Do you know how many women have gone through the same experience and felt powerless? They'd look up to you, all victims would look up to you and you'll become the right type of god in this industry.'"

Ramon runs a hand to his girlfriend's back, yet he himself looks subdued in a guilty way that intrigues Iris.

"That's what he told me," Snow resumes in a normal voice. "But I was scared, and...when the guy tried to intimidate me, Barry and him had a physical altercation that sent Barry alone to the police station. The man didn't press charges, it was just Barry's warning...he ignored it and reported him. He told the police about me being the victim of assault, and Thawne backed him up by bringing forward other victims."

Uh-oh. Iris already knows how this ends.

"I...I denied the allegations," Snow confirms her suspicion. "And my mom backed me up. Cisco backed me up privately and warned Barry about Thawne. Barry wouldn't listen to us, he said that we were cowards, and traitors because my statement earned him backlash for speaking against Hunt—that god of fashion."

Iris makes a note to herself for looking up this god of fashion who's name is Hunt something. Huntington? Hunter?

"Everyone told Barry to apologize," Snow says. "Everyone except his agent, of course. Barry didn't drop the case, instead he backed up Patty Spivot instead and made a big deal of donating to a 'Me Too' group. His social media platforms were full of incendiary posts about men of power who are part of the problem for not standing up for their mothers, sisters or even best friends. That was directed at Cisco, everyone in our private circle knew it. But Cisco's latino, I'm a woman, we don't have the same social power as Barry—"

"You literally just said that I offered to help you with my 'social power'," Allen points out in a quiet but harsh tone. "And you said no!"

"Dude, the guy was a tank," Cisco chimes in. "You only emerged on top of this story because of Thawne. And you became 'a god' because it looked like you'd slayed one yourself, plus because you took half of Zol—of the guy's contracts when his career went down the drain. Again, all thanks to Thawne. Your fanbase doubled within weeks, but that was mostly because Patty's fans were shipping you and her so hard."

Ah. A name that Iris recognizes. She waits for Ramon to finish chewing on a mini sandwich.

"Poor darling," he comments with not an ounce of sympathy in his voice. "I bet she's still bitter over you rejecting her."

Iris drinks to that.

"I never made a public statement so my career was untouched," Ramon informs her. "But Cait? No one wants to forget that she didn't report that guy when she could've. And Barry didn't support her when she got backlash for quote unquote 'gaslighting the other victims,' who were women of color or who didn't have a famous parent to protect their career...you can imagine the fallout."

"Karma's cold like that," Allen says with that sass of his.

"It is," Snow agrees. "You acted all high and mighty until you found out that we were right about Thawne. Then you had to dirty your own Disney princess' hands to clean up his mess. And when you promised Cisco that you and Thawne were through, you still went along with his crazy idea about the lightning storm shoot! Against all of our warnings, even Snart's! Nine months in the coma and two years of rehab? Yeah, that's cold."

Iris doesn't want to like this 'Killer Frost' woman, but she appreciates the way that she gives Allen sass back. To be sure, Iris thinks, no, she knows that her PA was a 100% right to report the sexual harassment.

Should he have asked Snow's permission before blurting it out? Yes. But was it wrong that his career skyrocketed after he did the right thing? No, since everyone else's cowardice is the reason why that god of fashion was able to prey on women in the first place. Allen deserved the accolades. He made the world of fashion a little better.

But Iris herself hasn't reported Eric or Mason for years of unfair treatment, so she can't point the finger at Snow for not standing up for herself...and less fortunate women. Women of color. That part makes Iris want to tell Snow: 'thank you for telling me that my PA has a great moral compass when it really counts...'

But considering that Allen himself told Iris that he's doing whatever he wants now that he doesn't have to compensate for his terrible agent's behavior...no comment. 

"Now you got debts up to your long neck because you were too proud to ask your friends for money," Snow's next words tell Iris...

...that the other woman isn't Allen's ex girlfriend after all. Just a friend. Ex-friend?

"You changed your phone number," Allen bites out. "And Cisco was abroad. Anyways, I don't want charity from either of you since you think that I deserve what I got."

"Come on, man," Ramon reacts unhappily. "You would help us out if the roles were reversed. Let us help."

"Like I told you, I already got help," Allen counters with a polite nod towards Iris. "She offered me the perfect opportunity to get back on my feet all on my own. Nobody from within hooked me up on what's going to be a historical event. Not you, not Wells, not Snart. And Miss West isn't just going to help me, she's going to help all of us. It's about time we had our own fashion week. Our hometown, our standards. No more compromising to please big names because we'll be the big names."

"Big words from a big dreamer," Ramon reacts with squinted eyes that he shifts on Iris. "But I'll need more than Barry's hype up speech to get on board. If you want me to start a Spring and Summer collection—"

"An in-season Winter collection, actually," Iris calmly corrects him, and when he makes a face, "I didn't know that you're a local designer so you're actually not on the list, Mr. Ramon."

He frowns, deeply so, and Iris knows that she got him pulling on the bait.

Even with Allen she didn't think that she could get close to such a big fish. A few more days and she would've completely missed him since he's going to Paris for the fashion week. He could've been in Milan right now! If she reels him in, Eric will owe her a huge bonus. The last one ever.

Iris is surprised, even impressed by those three celebrities' agents. She checked last night and nobody knows that Ramon is from Central City. Nobody meaning the press. He was apparently homeschooled until he was eighteen then started started his career. There's nothing about him being Dr. Wells' protege online, nothing about him and Allen being best friends and nothing about his romance with Snow. They've all worked together multiple times, sure, but not more than they've worked with others—if Iris had to guess, Allen's bestie is Oliver Queen—so it makes sense that the paparazzi don't know that they're close.

And it's not like they'll know tonight. Frankie's not a popular socialite spot, it's for discreet wealthy people hence the covered parking lot and restricted access to the restaurant itself. Miss Jocoy and Mr. Norvock have a select clientele, so it's no wonder they were stern with Allen about Ramon and Snow's behavior.

But maybe paparazzi would be more invested if they knew that bCentral City is Ramon's hometown? Still, the city isn't a big center of fashion yet. But if— _when_ — this campaign puts it on the map...

For now Iris has to play with Ramon's ego to make sure that her last project with CCPN turns her into a big name too.

"I'll be frank: I didn't truly believe Mr. Allen when he said that this social call would turn into a business meeting," Iris lies as she lightly plays with her hair, ignoring her PA's confused look. 

"If you think that you can keep me out of this campaign," the fashion designer starts with a growing smile, "which is partly sponsored by my mentor, after you hired my best friend and recruited my girlfriend...all that while you're wearing my dress and rocking these Whitney Houston curls?!"

They all laugh before he can even finish with "you're delusional" or something similar.

* * *

"I'm still hungry," Allen whispers when he helps Iris wear her coat. "You?"

Yeah she is too. She can't ever have dessert because of all the cream plus the outrageous amount of refined sugar. Her skin riots whenever she consumes more than a tablespoon.

"Pizza sounds okay?" Allen asks as they walk to her car. "Homemade, the dough is made of cauliflower and tapioca flour. The cheese is storebought, though. None of the refined oils, it's made of cashews. You're not allergic, right? You drink almond milk."

"Yeah, a pizza sounds great actually," she admits with controlled excitement. "I stopped torturing my lactose-intolerant gut with cheese way back in high school. What are the toppings?"

"Whatever that's in my fridge or pantry that you like," Allen answers when she unlocks the car...

...and forces herself not to freeze on the spot when she belatedly realizes that she just agreed to go to her secret boyfriend's place at half past eight. She really should go home, adjust a few things on the budget proposal she has to submit to Snart by next Monday, and get a good night sleep.

Instead she lets Allen enter an address in her navigation system, and yeah that neighborhood isn't the best...but the address is that of a decent parking building rather than an apartment building. Iris' stomach swoops down when Allen pays for overnight parking.

She can always leave during the night, right? Yes, yes she can.

"It's just a couple of blocks away," Allen tells her, then after looking her over outfit he adds. "I can carry you if the heels aren't that comfortable. Piggyback ride?"

"How old are we?" She throws back with a scoff, then changes to her sneakers stored in the trunk.

"I'll be thirty in seventeen days," he actually answers as he grabs the shopping bags containing her four other Francisco Ramon dresses, Felicity Smoak wedges that Iris bought herself because she's in love, and several pairs of Marlize DeVoe pantyhose.

Three of the dresses are from this year's Spring and Summer collection. Iris can't believe that she's dressing up like real wealthy people now.

Of course she's got money, but that's because she's frugal and rents her place instead of living in the loft she bought a few years back. She's renting it to a black-owned jewelry business, and she still feels guilty for taking a while to say yes just so she could do a third background check because the owners sounded too good to be true. She loves everything they make and has offered their watches to Wally and her dad. 

According to Wally, Francine has yet to wear the amethyst gold necklace that's part of the same set as the bracelet and earrings that Iris wears almost every day.

"And you?" Allen asks. "When I was reading your reviews I kept assuming that you are older because of your experience with CCPN, but if you started right off high school..."

"What happened to not asking a lady her age?" Iris jokes as she closes the trunk and locks her car. "Is chivalry dead after all?"

"You're the one who refused a piggyback ride," he jokes back with a wide grin.

He leads the way but walks backwards to keep facing her. 

"Come on, Iris," he prompts her. "Just the date is fine, for your birthday."

"June twenty-fourth," she lets him know as she looks around them in a moment of silly paranoia.

Of course there's no paparazzi tailing them. Nobody recognizes Barry Allen or notice Iris sticking out like a sore thumb in a dress worth the average annual income in this part of town. Most of the people walking the streets are looking down at their phone screens anyways. 

"Your sign is cancer, huh?" Allen guesses accurately. "That explains your loyalty to Larkin and Bridge...and your adaptability. These two days would've thrown most people off but you're taking it all in stride."

"You can't possibly believe that astrology nonsense," Iris drawls, and when he shrugs, "what do they say about pisces?"

Something flashes in his eyes before he finally turns around to walk by her side. He even shifts his messenger bag and her shopping bags to the side so he can step a little closer to her.

"Pisces are caretakers so are likely to have careers in health care or the justice system," he seems to recite from memory while he looks straight ahead. "They're artistic because their fantastic imagination makes them exceptionally creative people and big dreamers; but they need family and friends to keep them grounded or that imagination may lead them into trouble."

Oh. So that's pretty spot on...if his plans to be a doctor like his dad counts, that is. Ah, health care _or_ justice. He did go through the trouble of fixing Thawne's wrongdoings. Maybe it's not a front after all, maybe he is a good boy...um, Iris' body disagrees.

"Pisces are also hopeless romantics," Allen adds more quietly, and Iris can't help the snort that escapes her.

Romantic? He's a player! A heartbreaker!

"I heard that," he lets her know with a squinted-eyed glance.

She can't tell if he's faking the hurt she detects in those green eyes. He must be!

"Come on, Mr. Allen," she scoffs. "Guys like you don't bother with romance, and hey, why should you? To be honest, I expected Miss Snow to be one of your scorned exes."

"Caitlin?" He asks, and wow now he looks genuinely offended. "She's not even a friend. We both tried to get along since we had a lot in common back in college and we often worked together whenever I had gigs in town, but that didn't work out so well. We tolerate each other because of Cisco. And how many exes do you think I have?"

"Five? Six?" Iris guesses on top of her head. "Seven with Bec-ky Cooper. One hell of a high school girlfriend, that one. Was she your first? Please say yes because at least you'd have an excuse for not knowing better."

He laughs but doesn't answer her question and doesn't confirm the number of his ex-girlfriends...which is all good for her and her four ex-boyfriends. If she didn't have work keeping her busy all these years she would've slept with more men to satisfy her curiosity.

Oh. OH.

Allen promised to spank her, didn't he? Is tonight 'later?'

That thought spikes up Iris' libido, but then Allen abruptly trips on nothing after he lets her into his small but clean one-bedroom.

He's got such random moment of clumsiness!

Her eagerness returns when she watches him peel the leaves of a corn cob because she wants corn on her side of the pizza; her cheeks go warm every time he licks his thumb to assess the seasoning of his homemade tomato sauce; she even feels herself gush out when he twirls a kitchen towels with both hands because she gets a vivid image of him tying up her hands with it and keeping them up against the fridge.

And when she allows herself to moan in appreciation of the cheese because he's in the bathroom, he pops up from behind her and whispers "yeah?" with a hand on the back of her dining chair and a spark in his eyes as he stares at her lips.

Jesus. 

He seems to detect her impatience because after the pizza and after they take turn replying to emails and checking the news about their respective fields on his chromebook...he asks if she wants to use the shower first or watch a few Vibe shows to get inspired.

See? Sex and work, that's it. Nothing romantic at all. Iris opts for the shower first in case things get heated out of nowhere while they watch the fashion shows. With Allen anything is—

"Oh," she whispers when she sees why he spent some time in the bathroom.

The lights are off, but a dozen of small purple candles light up the small room. There's a shower stall rather than a bathtub, but the petals of golden roses sprinkled everywhere further beautify the place.

After she notices the handicap-friendly bars, she spots the travel size case of toothbrush and toothpaste on the stainless steel shelf above the sink. Next to it are sample bottles of a black hair salon product line that Iris remembers buying, but not here in Central City...in Atlanta, yes, during a business trip way back. She used the products sparingly because they were such good quality. Is the line sold in Central City's stores now? She doesn't go to beauty supply stores often enough to know.

A part of her doesn't want to give too much credit to Allen. He obviously stole a few roses from the huge bouquet in her office to decorate his own home, and of course he's got travel size stuff, he used to be a runway model. He's probably seen a hairstylist use that brand on a black model in the past so he grabbed it after he decided to seduce Iris. Or one of his exes is a black woman, that's still a possibility!

But the other part of Iris is intrigued by the purple candles. Does Allen know that purple and gold are her favorite colors? The only way for him to know that is that he's paid attention to her jewelry...and the nail polish on her toes.

Is it just a coincidence that he bought those? The candles look newly lit, he bought them recently, but right now stores are still full of red, white and pink candles because of Valentine's day earlier in the month. The only purple candle are the lavender ones, Iris knows because that's the ones she settles on when she runs out of the vanilla-scented purple candles she purchases online. The candles burning right now in Allen's bathroom smell like coconut and something flowery.

Call Iris crazy but to her the scent is pretty close to the hair product line she's been using for over a year now. So if Allen has as good of a nose as her, he noticed the similarities last Saturday...or he bought the candles after the interview on Saturday.

She's enjoying the sweeter tropical scent of the brand new shower gel when she recalls Allen blurting out something about 'feelings' and then she remembers that he worked her up in front of the window in her office...so they could enjoy the sunset at the riverfront.

"So, I was thinking that we should watch the few recorded events organized by Caitlin instead," Allen tells her without turning around when she comes out of the bathroom.

Her hair is in two fresh jumbo cornrows. She only used the refreshing scalp spray. She did the cornrows quickly, and she feels silly wearing what's obviously his pajama shirt and brand new fruit on the loom boxers...couldn't he buy her women's clothes since he went through the trouble of—

Alright, the Ramon dresses are women's clothes. Like, cream of the crop women's clothes.

It's just that Iris is used to wearing something fierce and sexy when she plans on dragging a man to bed asap, and she doesn't look the part right now.

"Iris?" He calls out before twisting around.

She hates the way he says her name...as if his lungs, vocal cords, tongue and lips are aware that he's not talking about the colorful part of the eye, nor the flower family.

As if they think that he's saying a prayer to the Greek goddess herself. She hates it because she didn't even know the origin of her name until Chris told her when she finally dated him, almost a year before Eddie. Chris was working at the art museum CCPN was partnering up at the time. He majored in art history in college, and after sex he pillow-talked Iris about college a lot more than work, as if to rub in the fact that Iris didn't have a higher education like him.

The first pillow talk had been great, actually: he'd reminisced about an art analysis piece he'd written on a painting of the goddess Iris exactly because it reminded him of Iris the girl he wanted to go to prom with in high school.

Iris was flattered when he said that it made sense that she's into marketing since Iris is the goddess of not just the rainbow but also of communication, messages and new endeavors.

She might have eventually fallen for the guy if he hadn't been cheating on his fiancée with her. The unlucky woman was the same girl he'd ended up going to prom with. Thankfully Iris ended things before his high school sweetheart found out. They just got married last summer, so hopefully Chris worked on his cheating mentality.

"Is something wrong?" Allen's voice brings Iris back into the present, and it hits her anew that she's on a time crunch with him.

What cancer and pisces supposedly have in common is that they make decisions based on their emotions. Allen wants to go back in the fashion world, so of course he's grateful to Iris for giving her a ticket back in. No favor owed, just work. He's never hidden that fact. He calls her 'the help' now, but even before he knew that he was talking to Iris he admitted that

_“I mean, I won’t mind keeping her endorphins level high if it helps me stay employed for at least six months."_

And Iris? She's stupidly thrown twelve years of impeccable work ethics because deep down she's flattered by the attention of a celebrity who's not actually 'has been.' Allen is a smooth operator and he's the social justice warrior who wants her to do her own thing...she will, and she's grateful for the push.

But she's not getting attached. Allen is a hopeless romantic. Keyword: hopeless, because this relationship has no hope of going anywhere.

"Iris? What is—" the supermodel asks when he stands up.

She doesn't let him finish his question. She kisses him and he immediately kisses her back, and she ignores the ache in her heart at the idea that she only has six months of these passionate lip locks.

But that's what makes her ask him to spank her, and he does...eventually.

After he makes her come a first time on his couch, her pelvis propped on its arm and her legs draped over his still covered shoulders;

After he makes her come a second time when they're both naked and she's in his bed and on his dick, final-fuckingly. Iris' body is so ready for it and he's not so thick, rather he's long and he hits her so deep that when she rides him she gets her first multiple orgasm ever; she almost passes out after such fireworks but Allen brings her back when he moves her around so he can carefully lap up her juices the way a cat would lap up milk. Almond milk, of course. 

It's when Iris realizes that Allen hasn't finished that she flips on her stomach and lifts her hips in a yoga puppy posture.

"Come on, Mr. Allen," she calls onto him with a voice that's more wrecked than sultry, but he doesn't complain.

"Fuck, Iris," he gasps as he smoothly gets back inside her and he does feel big in this angle.

He spanks her not because she asks again, but because she refuses to call him Barry and she accepts to get punished for it when he breathlessly warns her that it's coming.

He doesn't collapse on her the way she would've liked. He's so warm! 

Instead he slips out and goes to the bathroom to get rid of the condom and returns wearing one of the other brand new fruit of the loom boxers, and carrying a hand towel while she's staring at a message from Janet. 

A reminder that they have a girl night on Thursday.

"Bad news?" Allen asks her when he tries to clean her up but she takes the towel with her free hand.

"I don't know how to say no to the women who helped me put out the job post," she confesses.

"No to what?" He asks her cautiously as he stays on his side of the bed.

"Some girls night out I'm not going to regardless of what I end up telling them," Iris answers as she hops off the bed. 

Allen doesn't irritate her with questions as to why she won't go. He might not be a good boy but he's a smart one.

"I guess you're not staying," he says when she's done wiping her inner thighs.

Yup. Smart boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments I'll get to them ASAP!
> 
> More KillerVibe next chapter, I promise. I miss them. I miss them all!
> 
> I feel like I'm recycling too many ideas from previous West-Allen AUs lol. I should finish my WIPs then do a Medieval AU to switch things up 🤣🤣🤣


	6. No Time To Waste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back!
> 
> A little office drama silliness before I start resolving the damn plot that's been itching me. There's West-Allen at the end though. Sounds good?

Iris isn't that kind of person, but...she breaks up with Allen in a text message once she gets home. A very cordial and tactful text message, really, and she even asks a question to make him believe that he has a choice in the matter.

His lack of response despite reading the text suggests that he knows very well that she didn't leave him any.

"Miss West, I don't think I can do this!" Is his way of greeting her the next morning.

He looks...overwhelmed but not heartbroken?

He's at his desk, standing by what looks like his new chair and typing up furiously on his keyboard.

Iris drops her purse and grabs her coffee. He should know by now not to engage her in any conversation before her first sip!

There's some sweet citrusy after taste in her wake up drink, which is odd because her instructions specified that her Wednesday coffee must be black, no sugar, no cream. 

But this brew doesn't taste bad at all, so she doesn't comment.

"Good morning Mr. Allen," she greets after her second sip.

"Oh, where are my manners?" He says in a peppy tone as he approaches her. "Morning!"

Her brain's still twenty percent foggy, so she extends her hand to shake his.

It's a bit ridiculous, but she wants him to know that there are no hard feelings on her side. They tried something forbidden, it didn't work, moving on. They're professionals, right?

Him kissing the back of her hand seems even more ridiculous, but okay? No hard feelings on his side either. Good, good...

...or not good, because he keeps her hand in his for too damn long.

"Hope you slept well," he says in a soft voice while rubbing his thumb over the lingering warmth of his lips.

"Umm," is all Iris can answer because she's taking a long sip of coffee for strength.

She didn't take him for the clingy type, but okay, she's done this before...but he gently drops her hand before she can reiterate her proposal to end things. 

Alright? He just needed closure, then? Yeah. Good.

He goes back to sounding frantic, which is absolutely expected from a PA on the first meeting of the quarter.

"I didn't!" He says. "Sleep well that is, because I suspected that this meeting would be hell and...I...was right! Fifteen ongoing projects? How many people are there in the marketing team? I thought we were just twelve?"

"Directly under Mason, yes," she confirms as she rounds her desk to switch on her desktop. "But we can pull in anybody on this floor for extra help."

"You can...but do you personally do that?" He questions her with a quick glance and a quirk of his lips as he drops down on his new seat.

She trusts that he can interpret her silence as a "hell no."

She rolls her eyes at the chain of "meeting prep" emails that have flooded her inbox in the last eight hours. Some people sent those emails at three in the morning!

"I know that I'm just the PA, but this is overwhelming," she hears Allen says at his desk.

"You're an excellent PA, Mr. Allen," she compliments him because her professionalism cannot let her stay quiet about it. "I'm very satisfied with your work so far. Keep it up."

"You know I will!" He replies with that big boy smile of his.

It fades quickly when he sees something on his screen.

"Scott Evans," he reads quietly. "That's the guy to beat, huh?"

"Didn't you claim that I couldn’t get this promotion the other day?" Iris' lips ask before her brain can stop them.

She decided to quit yesterday, but she's back to being a decent employee, so maybe she should ...

"I think a change of plans is in order," Allen boldly declares before spinning twice in his chair.

He then stops at the perfect angle to face her. "Let's get you that promo offer, Miss West. You have what it takes."

She eyes him folding a piece of paper in three as he keeps going: "and when Larkin and Bridge think that they're superheroes without capes for giving you what you deserved years ago?"

He slaps the three-fold paper against the edge of the desk.

"You drop your resignation letter and walk out like a boss," he finishes outlining this so-called plan.

"This isn't a movie, Mr. Allen," she deadpans, unimpressed.

What's in his cup of coffee? Is he nursing his heartbreak with crack?

"Last night felt like a movie," he mumbles as he reaches out for his mug.

"Excuse me?" Iris reacts a bit too loudly, and he almost knocks out his coffee.

"I mean!" He starts at a high pitch, takes a breath and looks at her on and off as his face gradually turns red. "It was supposed to be a work date slash sleepover, right? So that we could review things in the morning together? You had multiple changes of clothes so there was no problem..."

Ah. Right.

"I’m not complaining!" Allen promises, shaking his palms at her, and the red has gone up his ears now. "It was...better than I imagined. But you made it sound like..."

She stares at him intently as she takes a tiny sip of her coffee, waits for him to finish that sentence. He rubs a hand to the back of his neck before finding his voice again, and he fidgets with a pen instead of looking at her.

"You sounded like you really wanted me to spank you?" He states with uncertainty.

Oh.

"I did," Iris confirms, a bit thrown off by his shyness.

He almost spanked her in this very office. Why's it a big deal out of the blue?

"But then you were upset and you just left," he accuses her softly. "You didn't...if I went too hard or...I could've used some feedback, you know?"

Her getting wetter after each slap was not feedback enough??!

"And I...um, I wanted to cuddle," he nearly whispers. 

Okay, that hopeless romantic thing is real. That's cute, and Iris has nothing against cuddling, but she can't get attached to a greater than life public figure. Cuddling is the epitome of intimacy, so. No.

Anyway, they broke up. Re-hashing this is pointless...but maybe if Janet's text didn't upset her they would've talked some more. She feels bad for that text, really. But he'll get over it. 

"Cuddling was all I wanted to do, I promise!" Allen's next words makes her squint in skepticism, but Allen's not looking at her.

"But unlike here," he waves a hand around, "I can’t control myself when it’s just the two of us behind locked doors."

Iris almost spits her coffee, because, hold up: did he just imply that there was any control involved in what they've done in this office?

No! Office sex only occurs in the complete absence of control!

In a few weeks, when she fully regains her professional self-esteem, Iris will laugh about it. Maybe.

"So...I apologize for breaking the rules," Allen says much too late, but of course Iris is guilty of being unprofessional too. "And I was worried about the way you left last night...it felt like a one-night stand rather than making love, you know? So thank you for sending me the text later on. I just didn’t know what to say in response."

She stares at him warily from above the rim of her mug, because she feels like something, somewhere, somehow...got lost in translation.

He calmly stares back at her, and after five seconds of this still image:

"I admit that it wasn't smart for us to start anything without establishing rules," he goes on, and Iris really feels like they're having two different conversations now. "But I...swear...that I had no idea that I'm a dom until I met you."

Huh?

"I've been a pushover all my life!" He claims with his hands up. "Maybe it's the coma? Dr. Black told me that I'll notice more changes as I go..."

Dr. Black, why does that name ring a bell in Iris’ mind...wait, focus!

"What?" Iris asks quietly. 

"Anyway, I did some light reading after you texted me," Allen lets her know, "but I was hoping that you would guide me since you're more experienced in BDSM."

Iris doesn't even know what to say in response, after three, four, five seconds of silence...so she finishes her coffee right there, hoping that she’s simply half asleep and dreaming while standing. That earns her a deep frown from Allen.

"Wait, you didn't know that you’re a sub either?" He questions her, his jaw dropping. "But...you knew that I wanted to spank you yesterday! And last night's text?"

What does a break up text have to do with kinky sex? She was talking about fraternization rules in gen—

Wait. Kinky sex.

That's...the only kind of sex they've had so far? No, no, they eventually got fully naked in a proper bed last night...but that first position wasn’t even a traditional cowgirl, it was the "cowgirl helper," is that considered vanilla? Iris is pretty sure that’s a position straight out of the Kama Sutra—one day she will read the full thing, the sex positions are only one section of this extensive, ancient and non-pornographic Indian philophical work...but thinking of ancient and Indian, she totally used a yoga pose for a spicier doggy style too. Well, on the couch she was on her back...upper back, her hips on the armrest and Allen's hand keeping her legs wide and...oh God.

She can't let her mind linger on anything they've done, especially in this office!

This qualifies as a torrid affair, right? Like...this has to be what Cynthia was talking about? Should Iris hold onto this?

But...Allen probably thinks that she’s a sex deviant or something. He said that last night felt like a movie...like porn? He definitely thinks that she’s a slut since he claims that he didn’t expect them to fuck at his apartment in the first place.

Wow. The nerves of the guy who propositioned her at work? Most importantly—

"I'm not a sub," she denies. "I'm just curious. I'm a woman who's comfortable enough in her sexuality to be open-minded."

Silence reigns for a minute that feels like an hour.

"Would you like to talk about...your open-mindedness, then?" He requests with slow enunciation and squinted eyes. "Whenever you're ready, of course."

"But we broke up," she rushes to say.

"When?" He asks with three successive blinks.

"You didn't answer my text but you read it, so you agreed to the breakup?" She feels silly for asking rather than stating.

His jaw drops again, then he rushes to take his phone out of his pocket, mumbling "no way, am I relapsing? Fuck!"

He taps and scrolls a few times, looking all panicked. But after reading what Iris assumes is her text message he sighs in relief, closes his eyes but halfway through another loud exhale his eyes snap wide open.

"Umm, Miss West?" He calls out cautiously.

"Yes," she answers flatly, not showing her deep confusion.

He hands her his phone, as if she needs to re-read her own message. Maybe she made a typo and because they’re advertisers he’s picky about spelling?

**Mr. Allen, I believe that we're going about our relationship the wrong way. We should just forget what’s happened between us so far and start afresh, don’t you think? The rules are meant to smooth out the way, to avoid the obstacles as we establish a reliable partnership. Ignoring these rules is counterproductive. Let’s review them together if you have questions, ok? See you tomorrow.**

Hmm.

Somehow...the message is more ambiguous now than it was when Iris sent it. She definitely meant the rules from the company's code of conduct, not Dom-sub rules! She's not a sub anyway!

"You're free to properly break up with me after lunch," he announces in a much less cheerful tone as he swipes his finger across the keypad of his laptop to keep the screen at maximum brightness, avoiding eye contact with her. "You can write a letter if talking to me honestly is such a tedious task."

"I never said," she starts but he doesn't let her finish as he takes back his phone. 

He doesn't snatch it per se, but...the spirit of the action is floating around.

"Just don't type it, please," he begs her as he looks at her and she feels horrible for bringing the hurt in his eyes. "I deserve a proper handwritten 'fuck off.'"

He looks down at the phone screen again, and shakes his head before pocketing the device. 

"To me that sounded like you wanted us to set up dom-sub rules because we went a bit crazy and that scared you off. I mean, I didn’t really think that you would agree to me giving you orgasms in the office..."

That's such a lie! Is he for real?

"...but you so deserve that, you know? I can’t believe the stress you’re under all the time...and, um, full disclosure: last night? It was my first time."

"Your first time spanking a woman?" She questions him, shocked, and after she unwisely revisits the moment her mouth goes off before it gets the green light from her brain: "I liked it."

"Yeah?" He reacts with a perk, then he notices that his voice has gone low so he clears his throat. "I mean, I'm relieved that you did, but I..."

A knock at her door interrupts this not-so-safe for work conversation so Iris gladly steps to the door before her PA even stands up. 

A smile starts stretching her lips when she sees Linda...but then Scott walks up from over her shoulder.

"Good morning Miss Park, Mr. Evans," Iris greets cordially.

"Hello Miss West," Linda answers with more shyness than usual, while Scott is Scott.

"Hey West, I know that you don't need no one's help, but I remember standing right here the other day when Eric said that we should ease your PA into things. But this meeting will be a baptism by fire from Satan himself if Linda doesn't give him a few tips, so. Prove that you have a heart, and let us help the newbie."

Of course the cubicle people are watching. Iris needs another cup of coffee.

"Oh wow, thank you for this!" Allen says from behind her. "And hello, how do you do? Newbie here, my name's—"

"Barry-fucking-Allen?" Evans shouts, then turns around to look at someone at the cubicles. "Miller! I apologize for jokingly saying that you're on crack. Come to me during Social, alright?"

"Thanks, Scott!" Miller from Analysis shouts back.

"Couldn't you tell me that he was telling the truth, Linda?" Evans chides his PA. "Jackam from H.R. is the one who started the rumor! Didn't you become buddies when endorsed her application?"

Linda doesn’t answer the question because she’s effectively standing frozen, her face pink as she stares at Allen. Iris has never seen her so out of it before.

Right. She's just twenty-one, so chances are high that she's got a poster of Allen in her bedroom or something, same as J-O-S-S.

"Hi, Mr. Evans and Miss Park, right?" Allen greets, and Iris steps aside to let him shake hands...

...but his hands are conveniently busy holding their respective mugs of coffee.

"I'd shake your hands, but I'm on coffee duty," he lies with the most genuine chuckle as he slowly steps forward.

Even as star struck as she is, Linda has the presence of mind to step aside.

"Would you like some coffee as well?" Allen politely asks. "How do you take yours? It's the least I can do for—"

"Wait, man," Evans stops him, overextending his hand to grab his upper arm. "Linda can do it."

Iris is about to object but then she doesn't want to sound too loud...since people stop talking when Barry looks down at Scott's hand on his expensive-looking button-down.

His eyes only show surprise, but Iris knows better and clearly so does Evans.

"Oh, is this a Clifford DeVoe's?" The marketing manager identifies the brand as he slowly take his hand away. "Pretty sure that I peeked one looking just like that at the last Haute Couture show."

"You got a good eye!" Allen throws a bubbly compliment that's so damn convincing that Iris thinks one more time thathe’s made for Hollywood. "I'll be right back, alright? Coffee?"

"No, we're good, man," Scott cautiously answers before Linda can even say something.

Iris almost suggests that she goes with Allen, but he probably doesn't want anyone in his way, especially a fan. At least she didn't scream like Jackam!

"Did you redecorate?" Evan ask whiles he steps inside Iris' office uninvited.

Iris wants to scream like Jackam now, but she just smiles and invites Linda in.

"Your makeover makes sense now," Scott comments with a once over at Iris. He manages to keep his gaze neutral, so she ignores him and weakly waves at the couch.

"Oh," Linda whispers when she sits against one of the fancy cushions. "That's comfortable."

"Oh, yeah," Evan's agrees appreciatively hen he takes his own seat. "We need something like this when we redecorate Becky's future old office!" 

"Excuse me?" Iris reacts with a lift of an eyebrow, her skepticism reflected in the purse of Miss Park's lips.

"There's no doubt that you're going to kill this project, West," the other manager declares as he stretches his arms on top of her damn couch. "Now I know what Eric meant by working magic. You brought Barry Allen back to life yourself, didn't you? This is some Lazarus type of shit! I've always believed in the power of your stubbornness, but this? Incredible."

These are the kind of underhanded compliments that make Iris doubt that Evans even wants to date her. He knows exactly how she receives his nonsense!

"Barry wasn't dead!" Linda corrects him. "He was in a coma but in a remote location, you wouldn't believe me when I told you!"

Huh?

"Right, you don't know why Eric picked us two, right?" Evan's says when he catches the surprise that Iris accidentally let show on her face. "We hit it off over our love for fashion."

Linda's frown indicates that there's a slight exaggeration to that "hit it off" statement. Iris knows for a fact that Linda doesn't like Scott that much.

"It's none of my business," she comments before he can start rambling about his one-sided friendship with the PA she trained.

"Nah, West, you need to hear this so there's no hard feelings between us later on," he insists. "I was a part-time model back in my MBA days, and though Linda here doesn't fit the criteria she's a respectable apparel and design connoisseur and she's photogenic. I wanted the diversity campaign to be you and I, you know? Young, good-looking and black? Rich was the next achievement. For me, that is, you've been rich."

They all think that she lives in some big villa, don’t they? To go with her luxurious SUV. She’s rich because she wants to be a millionaire, sure, but deep down...deep down she hopes that some brilliant doctor will figure out a cure for her mom, and of course that cure won’t be cheap!

"But Eric gave me some bullshit excuses to count you out of the campaign," Scott tells her, "said that you can’t represent change because you've been here from the start, the PA position needed a boost too so it couldn't be two managers, blah blah blah, he even dared say that putting two Black people in the forefront was not diverse enough."

It does seem that Jackam joined the company because of Linda if there was an endorsement involved, so using an Asian and black employee was a good idea. Jackam must think that joining CCPN is the best choice of her life since she met her idol. 

"I did believe Eric when he said that you aren't the outgoing type or the in front of the camera type, so it seemed that the campaign would've been a bother to you..."

Iris wants Allen to give her that black coffee now because Scott Evans is actually rambling. In her office.

But he's also enlightening her. She can't believe that Eric didn't even give her a chance, that he put words in her mouth! Of course she would've loved to represent the branch! And her seniority is a selling point isn't it? It shows that the culture of the company is good enough for a black woman to stick around despite the low diversity.

But she's not a good representative of black women out there, is she? They're all highly educated now, whereas Iris' all experience. She's a millennial with a boomer's professional record. Not attractive on paper. She should’ve just gone to school on her own dime, or maybe she should finish the certificates she started but stopped going through because it’s all outdated stuff or too reductionist. Who cares that she knows better? No one will believe her if she doesn’t have a piece of paper to prove it.

And Iris isn't the in-front of the camera type, that's true. She knows that she looks good in her current wardrobe, but she changed it to better fit in the fashion world. Normally she has to look almost austere to be taken seriously.

Like Allen said the day they met, she's a young and attractive black woman, and she typically deals with older men...they wouldn't pay attention to her words if she wore Becky Cooper's outfits. Not that she has as much to show up front as Cooper does, but she remembers a few meetings with clients after he first promotion, when she was still wearing regular "business chic" clothes. Mason had looked embarrassed even though she'd addressed all the questions that the clients had, and it's only later on when Eric himself assigned her to the research team that she'd realized that she was supposed to just look pretty and let Mason do that talking at those meetings.

She'd been an overzealous assistant, had overstepped her boundaries. She wishes that Mason had talked to her directly, but she thrived like a fish in water in research anyway. Less people to make small talk with. And with a less colorful wardrobe no one tried to engage her in gossips either. 

"And alright, those school principal cardigan dresses were a fashion crime," Evans coincidentally brings up. "But look at you now! If you could smile to non-clients you'd be the face of this branch. You'd be Mason's official second-in-command...well, no, you still wouldn't measure up."

"Scott," Linda squeals, because her boss just insulted her mentor right to her face!

"Becky's not perfect, far from it," that man has the galls to keep going as if nothing's wrong, "but she's known how the world works since she came into it with her silver spoon in her mouth. You?" He emphasizes his words with a lazy flick of his wrist in Iris' direction.

"Scott," Linda repeats hopelessly.

"You're too prim and proper, West, that's the hard truth," Evans keeps going. "And if Mason couldn't teach you in twelve years, then this is fair. I'm willing to do what needs to be done for this branch. So, no hard feelings."

"Why are you even here, Evans?" Iris questions him, proud of herself for keeping her cool. "Mr. Allen only needs Miss Park's help."

"Oh my God," Linda exhales, realizing what's about to happen when Allen returns, then she composes herself. "I won't disappoint you, Miss West!"

"You mean that you won't disappoint me," Scott corrects her as he stands up. "You're right, West, I'll get all the time to talk to Barry at lunch. You'll be there for once, I assume? Can't let us peasants dirty this quote unquote angel. That's what Linda calls him."

"That's his official nickname!" Linda argues. "The casual fans like you think it's 'god of fashion' but that was Hunter Zolomon! Barry's not like the other models! He's kind and bright and pure, and so humble! Who else would agree to work an eight to four after achieving international fame?"

The only reason why Iris doesn't laugh at the young PA is because she just gave her the name of the guy that Snow and Ramon talked about last evening.

She absentmindedly opens the door to let Scott through, and almost kicks him in the shin out of reflex when he invades her space.

"An angel wearing the latest Clifford DeVoe when he clearly can’t afford it?" He whispers as he steps so close that Iris smells the Jitters espresso on his breath. "Please. The only reason why he's on his best behavior now is that he's working with you and he doesn't know that he's secure for six months." 

"What. Are you. Doing," comes Allen's voice on the other side of the door.

His pitch and tone makes Iris' heart do a jab-cross at her ribs, so she doesn't turn her head towards him like Evans...

...who must see something non-angelic in Allen's eyes because he takes a wide side step away from her and fakes a cheerful tone when he says:

"See you in an hour for the meeting, yeah? Pay attention to what Linda says, she’s the best around here. Just avoid physical contact or she might faint. Welcome back, by the way! We all thought you dead."

"We?" Allen asks, intrigued for a second then a small smile softens his face as he gives Evans a discreet once over. "You're from S.T.A.R. Labs too?"

"I wish!" Evans replies with a laugh that sounds genuine.

Iris takes her cup of coffee from Allen before her rival starts rambling again.

"I was free-lance, so to speak," Evans explains, "and I actually had a promising part-time career back in grad school...until you got hit by lightning! Suddenly no one wanted to take risks, especially with non-contract models. I did some magazines pages, a single video commercial, then got lucky to get this job right after earning my MBA."

"That's two, three years at most," Allen estimates, his smile gone. "Miss West has been here for twelve years and you're at the same spot as her?"

Scott freezes for a second, and Iris can't tell if it's annoyance or panic that she sees flashing in his eyes.

"Oh no, of course she's paid better," his answer doesn't match Allen's observation, but Iris doesn't point it out.

"She's still not paid enough for putting up with you," a female voice says behind him.

Becky Cooper.

Iris can never get used to her perfect blonde dye, or to her real 30GG chest squeezed in a 32D bra but for a limit unprofessional decolletage, or to her impractically high heels. She's already taller than average, so with her shoes she's of a height with Scott when she passes him with two soft taps at the back, then...

...then she steps into the personal space of Iris' PA and...she kisses Allen. On the cheek, but so dangerously close to the corner of his lips that it must look like a legit kiss on the mouth from a few angles.

The gasps and whispers from the cubicle people confirm it. Iris ignores Evans who's trying to get her attention. 

None of her business! She's not jealous because she’s not Allen's girlfriend anymore, and even if she was it's a secret so...

But hey, on the bright side? The cubicle people won't be talking about her for a hot minute. They'll be focused on the Allen-Cooper sexual tension that they're currently witnessing.

"You look like you just took a nap for three years," Cooper tells Allen when she places her hands on his shoulders to scrutinize him. "A nap after a whole day at a spa, that skin of yours...ugh! I'm still jealous!"

"Oh? Then I know what to get you for your farewell gift," Allen answers with an innocent smile and his free hand on Cooper's mid back. 

It's more teasing than mean but Scott still does a quiet "damn" and a louder buzz starts at the cubicles.

"That DeVoe shirts looks perfect on you, hun," is Becky's smooth comeback as she pretends to fix his collar. "See you in an hour?"

"I don't have a choice," he answers with a fake sigh of grievance.

Then the two laugh together like old friends...or rather old flames, before Becky walks back to her office. 

Forget a hot minute. Cooper and Allen's former relationship will be an ongoing topic of gossip for the next six months.

* * *

Allen's first meeting is a regular baptism of fire thanks to Linda's prep. Iris almost goes to the Hump Day Social to properly thank her...and to congratulate her on not fainting when Allen did shake her hand.

Instead Iris chooses the complete quiet of her office. She got used to it after Spencer Young, and then Barry Allen happened.

She refuses to think about their upcoming discussion about the breakup, nor the way that Allen reacted to Scott earlier.

Nope, not thinking about it!

When someone knocks at her door in the middle of lunch, Iris drops her delivered Thai food and pops a mint thinking that it's Eric who's dropping by since she's not at the Social.

She's almost knocked over by Janet Petty storming into her office, but Lashawna Baez steadies her with a smile that's apologetic and amused at the same time.

"And do they have the perfect setting or what!" Petty exclaims as she slowly spins around, inspecting the space.

"Perfect setting for what?" Iris asks as she closes her door, and belatedly catches Shawna's head shake.

"The hottest office sex, of course," the H.R. representative casually answers as she looks out the window. "Girl, the view! Okay, we need to change the venue for tomorrow's girls night. I clearly underestimated your bougie level."

"Is it still a girls night?" Baez questions verbally while she asks permission to sit with a wave of her hand towards the couch.

Iris manages to recover from her heavy shock to grant that permission. 

"Oh, right, right, boys are allowed now, so bring that fine white boy of yours," Janet corrects herself as she pivots on her heels to face Iris, then gapes. "Woman! That's Marlize's tights!"

Pantyhose, but yeah. How does she even know...oh, right, the brand's signature is the incredibly fine embroidery along the seams. It's subtle, but the silk string is in a blue so deep it looks purple, which is what caught Iris' eyes. No other brand has that.

"You surely dress your age and wage, now," Shawna comments teasingly, then makes a quiet noise of appreciation for the cushion at her back. "I heard from finance that your PA put you in the red for office decoration. Worth it."

Iris feels panic rise in her throat, because the head of H.R. is in her office! Her office, where she's been a bad girl receiving the best oral of her life from her PA!!!

"Oh West, who cares?" Baez tells her as if she heard her thought. "The guy's on a six-month contract. Can't believe that I used to think that he's just an overrated beanpole. I talked to him. He's a good one."

Iris would laugh at 'beanpole' but she's not in the mood for all these people invading her space to tell her things she already knows!

"What is it with everyone today?!" She blurts out, then voluntarily lets her outrage through when she props her fists on her hips. "I finally get the PA I deserve, to secure the promotion I deserve, but somehow everyone thinks that something's wrong so they must help me out? Really?"

"Listen, Oreo," Janet says, her face serious as a heart attack. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but Evans is getting that promotion. Since you didn't say anything when they gave it to the rich white bimbo, the Eric trusts that you won't say anything when he gives it to a Black man. You can't even say anything this time because it's good for optics. It's the perfect follow up on the diversity campaign from two years ago."

"I'm good for optics too," Iris objects weakly, smothering her urge to cry.

Why is she being so stubborn? She's known since Monday! It's Allen's fault! Talking about change of plans and establishing Dom-sub rules as if any of that will make her life any better!

"Beverly's pillow talk words, not mine," Janet counters with a shrug.

Iris' jaw drop, because surely Petty isn't sleeping with the CCO?

"What?" Janet asks with a thrust out hip and her chin lifted. "Yes, I'm an Oreo too, so?"

"I don't act white," Iris denies. "Nor lick white boots. Why do you always call me...what's funny?"

Petty's just bent over Allen's desk to laugh her heart out.

"By Oreo she means, ahem," Shawna starts explaining, pauses to stand up, then adds, "she uses 'Oreo' instead of the common expression 'adding cream in your coffee'..."

Huh?

"Because that expression is a visual misrepresentation of what an interracial relationship looks like!" Petty argues. "I'm not compromising my identity as a Black person just because I'm fucking a white woman! It's not like mixing two liquids to blend colors and flavors, nuh-uh! It's just adding a thin layer of creamy goodness to my solid chocolate-rich foundation! It's extra! If the taste doesn't suit me anymore I can just scrap it off. I'm still dark brown, rich and crunchy...plus, why is it cream in coffee? I don't drink coffee. It gives heart palpitations and high blood pressure, and Buffy already does that to me at times. No thanks."

Funny she should say that because it feels that everyone and everything else is a greater risk to Iris' health than coffee!

"We just came to give you a friendly warning, Iris," Baez announces as she and Petty converge to the door. "Because while Allen is on contract, he has the potential to ruin your reputation long term. Keep him out of sight whenever you can, alright? Those hearts in his eyes at the mere mention of your name are subtle, true...but if we noticed, others will, especially when they stop treating him like a superstar and more like your PA."

What?

"No wonder he can't walk the runway anymore," Janet comments with a purse of her lips. "He's lost his poker face. He can't fool anyone in the fashion world."

"What?" Iris reacts out loud this time.

"It's just an educated guess," Shawna specifies with a shrug of her shoulders. "He's a good actor, for sure, but he's got ticks and tells. The average person wouldn't notice them...or maybe they would if they see you two together. Anyways, it's our job to pick up on those during investigations. And in the fashion world everyone's got our people reading skills, if not better skills. The oblivious ones don't last long there."

This educated guess has to be accurate, because now that Iris thinks about it: the people at Rogue, the models, Ramon and Snow, even the manager at Frankie's...all of them could tell that Allen's into her. 

Yes, she's his type and he told her so, but he shouldn't advertise it, right? He needs to look professional. And he is, most of the time, but he does get set off easily. Like the way he got her away from Eddie yesterday and reacted to Evans a few hours ago. 

Iris needs to get confirmation on this. She needs to know, because...if Allen can't go back to being a superstar, then...he doesn't have to leave her behind, right?

After ushering out Baez and Petty and confirming that they're going out tomorrow night because she owes them, Iris picks up the office phone and calls Snart.

"Rogues, this is Mick speaking," his PA answers first of course.

He will do.

"Hello Mr. Rory," she greets, embarrassment gradually filling her head. "This is Iris West from CCPN, and uh..."

"Yeah?" He prompts her, not unkindly but he's a busy man so...

"Please tell me if I'm out of line for asking this," she forewarns him, "but I've got a personal question to ask..."

"Len's expecting an important phone call in ten minutes, so anytime now, Miss West," Rory prompts her again.

"In your professional opinion, can Mr. Allen get back on the runway?" She finally asks.

There's a beat of silence, then Rory sighs.

"Only for a few designers," he specifies. "Ramon's his brother from another mother so he'll always have gigs for him. That should be enough to keep him in the game, but he'll never make it to the top, not as a model. Oh, and those DeVoe weirdos still like him, he wears their brand instead of Ramon's or Smoak's which he did before. And that's good for all of us since the DeVoes are local, whereas Ramon and Smoak don't need the publicity."

Ramon does his own publicity: a few diners ostentiously admired his dress on Iris because he pointed at it so dramatically.

"But on top of my head I don't know who else would allow him to get back on the runway," Rory concludes. 

"Alright," Iris acknowledges. 

"We would've gladly recruited him for backstage stuff since he’s got hands-on experience," Rory adds, "but Wells, who gave him that hands-on experience? He said no because he's still got one up in his ass about Barry's stunts with Thawne. And that's fair, the campaign would get a lot of opposition from the local talents if Barry got a big role. So thanks for helping him be part of it in a roundabout way, missy."

"He's the one helping me," Iris assures him.

"Not from our perspective or his," Rory argues. "Our world is full of ungrateful hypocrites, ma’am. Ask most in the crop of the local industry today and they’ll tell you that Barry Allen’s irrelevant, but half of them made a name for themselves because Barry made them relevant. He’s a daredevil, alright, but he’s generous: he's got a big heart, a big brain and steady hands. He's a giver. 

Iris blinks away the memories of those hands taking her clothes off at crazy speed, steadying her hips or slapping her butt cheeks.

"Designers, models, investors, events organizers," Rory lists off, "and even publications like us? Barry’s fame benefited us all long-term, otherwise Len wouldn’t have bothered to help him clear his image."

"I see," Iris says. "Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Rory. I’ll free the line."

"If I may, Miss West," he speaks loudly so she doesn’t hang up when she lowers the receiver. 

"Yes?" She prompts when she places the receiver back to her ear.

"I wouldn’t have said that before his coma," he disclaims, "but the kid’s fragile, so please take good care of him. That Danton Black fellow did a miracle, I tell you, for Barry’s brain to recover at all. But Barry doesn’t have the same mental defenses that working with Thawne helped him build. We all hate Thawne, but only him could groom the guy who would take down Zoom, our industry’s big bad wolf. If I saw Thawne today I’d give him a thank you kick to the balls, really."

"He deserves it," Iris agrees with a chuckle. "I’ll keep your advice in mind, Mr. Rory, thank you."

They say goodbye, and Iris’ fingers itches to dial another number, but her brain reminds them that the place closed years ago.

Stagg Industries.

Dr. Danton Black is the geneticist whose ground-breaking work kept being stolen by his boss Simon Stagg, who fired him before he could blow the whistle.

One would think that a brilliant man like Black would’ve easily found another employer and finally shined of his own right, but he vanished from the surface of the earth long before Stagg’s arrest. Iris looked for Dr. Black because his name was on the first few pre-clinical experiments that eventually granted Stagg the green light for the MacGreggor’s Syndrome clinical trials...but the trail was cold so she stopped looking after a few days. 

Iris’ not a scientist but she did take extensive notes about Danton Black’s work during those few days, so she opens her drawer and looks around for an old notebook, praying against hope that she can ask Allen. For all she knows this is another Danton Black?

* * *

  
It took Barry ten minutes to find a deserted bathroom, and he’s about to reject Cisco's twenty-third phone call...when he hears people approaching.

Iris would roll her eyes and say that this is not a movie, but he rushes to the last stall and stands as far back as possible to remain undetected.

"...renew his contract, what do you think?" Says no other than Eric Larkin. "This was the most successful Social in a long time! And he did well at the meeting this morning, right? Everyone even looked sharper with him around."

Mason Bridge sighs before zipping down.

"All I could see during that meeting was Iris dominate the room even when she wasn’t saying a word," Mason Bridge reports, sounding unhappy. "Becky and Scott didn’t know half of what the others’ projects were about. They could follow along of course, but they clearly skimmed through the prep emails. Iris skimmed through all reports since those projects started. You heard her feedback, Eric, she could’ve improvised everyone’s presentation and sounded more knowledgeable. And no, people weren’t on their best behavior and anticipating the questions because they had a superstar in the room. It’s because they all know that Iris is gearing up for this promotion so they want to make a good impression before she becomes the department’s big boss."

  
Oh, so she is getting the promotion? Why does he sound disappointed? Iris’ win is his win! He mentored her!

"Then Scott’s job will be cut down for him," Larkin's reply answers Barry's question. "Mace, relax, I’ll give her a raise, I promise. I can talk Bill into it..."

"No you can't!" Bridge denies. "He’s on painkiller twenty-four seven now, and he and Buffy still blame Iris for Stagg's fall. They’ll veto a raise and that’s cruel on so many levels! The girl’s been breaking her back and probably her toenails working for her family!"

Barry almost asks "what?" but stops himself in time.

Damn, he’s so much more impulsive than before. He can lie to Becky that he’s back to normal, but everyone in his circle knows that he only woke up to retire from the runway.

"We don’t know that, Mace," Larkin objects in a too neutral tone to believe himself. "She could be saving for a big house."

The sounds of paper towels being pulled out thankfully mask the loud vibrations of Barry’s phone before he can switch to silent mode.

Doesn't Francisco Ramon have better things to do right now?

"Iris started working so her brother could go to private schools just like her," Bridge speaks with an edge in his voice. "That we know for sure. And we also know that despite her parents being on mid-income salaries, at least Mr. West is, they've maintained the same lifestyle they had when they were making names for themselves. How? After 12 years? I remember seeing Francine West dominate the room at an entrepreneurship conference. Iris' got her fire. I’ve waited six years to call that woman and tell her that she can take it easy, that her daughter’s picking up where she left..."

"Francine West was a lawyer," Larkin argues with a sigh, and it sounds like the two aren’t leaving so soon. "Playing by the book is commendable in her profession. Not in ours, Mace. How many times do I have to repeat myself?"

Barry forces his heart to calm down so its beat doesn’t resonate so loudly in his ears. He can’t miss a word of what’s obviously a re-hashed conversation.

"Not all clients want sweetened deals, Eric," Mason points out.

"Word to mouth already got out that our media director is a well-spoken woman who does her best to satisfy our clients’ needs," the older man counters. "If the new director is a well-spoken woman who tells clients that their needs must be by the book...come on Mace. If we have to change directors, let the change be physical, not philosophical."

It sounds like he throws a paper towels in a bin before commenting: "Love these. The paper towel at Midtown College feel like sandpaper! Just for that I’m going the online route. Me, back to school! Who would’ve thought?"

"Speaking of school," Bridge quickly brings up, "let me at least start a chain of paperwork to get Iris the higher education deal, yeah? That, Bill can't veto."

Is he...is he suggesting that Iris never went to college? She didn’t go back to school after that first promotion however long ago?

"When she completes those certificates you never update me on, sure," Larkin agrees with a scoff that Barry doesn’t like. "Come on, Mace, if she can’t take those seriously and she’s paying for those herself—"

"Because they're not teaching her anything!" Bridge counters. "I don't update you on those because you'd have a heart attack hearing the inanity that's out there! She needs an education that will actually educate her! Some graphic design program, maybe? Definitely IT-related. She's more tech savvy than me but that doesn't mean much."

Barry feels better knowing that Bridge is at least trying. Not hard enough, but his heart is in the right place. Larkin, on the other hand...

"I need to think about the future of this entire branch, Mace," the CEO argues. "Not just Iris' future. This is about the bigger picture, and you need to put your feelings aside to think like a CEO. I don't want to retire worrying that you'll throw everything we've worked for through the window because of your affection for her. I care about her too, I'm the one who recruited her, remember? She's fine and she will be fine when Scott gets the promotion. She's loyal and hardworking, but it's not enough. She can't take this department any further than it already is. She'll stunt innovation because she thinks within the confines of clear cut rules."

"Stunt innovation?" Bridge repeats, outraged. "Don't you remember how we got these nice towels, Eric? They aren’t paper, by the way. This is—"

"Cotton, I know," the CEO completes the sentence. "I know that Iris got us the deal with Mercury Labs via a partnership with an Indonesian textile factory cutting off corners. I remember Iris’ presentation on it, Mace, that’s how I got the idea of giving her the Rogues project: she mentioned that if the deal expanded statewide we could repurpose as much fabric as is wasted during an entire fashion year."

Wow. Just, wow. What can’t Iris do? Barry shouldn’t be surprised. He knew...Cisco was right all along. All those years he’d stuck to Thawne because he's a cancer too...what an idiot!

"And you thought that she’d be so out of her element that she’d give up?" Bridge’s calmly challenges. "Your own recruit and my mentee?"

"A mentee you failed to tailor to our clients’ needs, Mace!" Larkin accuses less calmly. "I should’ve sat her down myself..."

"You haven’t because you can’t," Bridge counters. "Don’t act like you can look down on me, Eric. Iris is the epitome of professionalism. She’s the best of us. The first time I tried to bring up the subject...Stevie and I were on a rough patch..."

That’s the most obvious code for "I was fucking my secretary because the wifey wasn't giving me any" that Barry has ever heard.

"What right do I have to tell her to compromise her integrity and join the rest of us sinners?" Bridge asks.

"Don’t be so dramatic," Larkin chides him. "It’s human nature to seek comfort and stress relief. Iris has a boyfriend, right? That pretty blondie in a sports car? She's young and attractive, of course she doesn't need to worry about rough patches yet."

"Her relationship with...Teddy? The blondie, that ended three years ago. So I'd say that there was a rough patch," Bridge provides the answer to a question Barry didn’t dare ask Iris yesterday.

He didn't want to sound jealous by asking Iris too many questions about Thawne's nephew. On top of that he didn't want her to think about that blondie before he—

Fuck, he still can't believe all the things she’s let him get away with...at work! This is insane. She must think that he's a sex deviant or something, but this isn't him, this wasn't him before the coma. At all!

"...Barry Allen?" Bridge is saying his name so he stays in the moment instead of revisiting his first time last night.

"Maybe he can tell her to be less strict?" Bridge speculates. "He's her subordinate but they're the same age and he could teach her a thing or two about compromising."

Same age, huh? Good to know that Barry's not the only one taking his damn time to lose the baby cheeks. Cisco's worse! Even his finest suits didn't stop bouncers in Tokyo from doing a close inspection of his ID.

"On Monday I not so subtly hinted that she should get to know the man for himself," Bridge reports, "rather than just treat him like PA...is it number seven?"

"Lucky number," Larkin comments. "It’s worth the try, but is Allen even going to open up? Leonard sounds guarded about him, in a protective way. I get it, really. Nine months of of his young life gone in the wind, and then a couple years of doing nothing other than get back on his feet? He cannot be the same guy. It’s a miracle that he’s alive and looking in tip top shape! His fans didn't lie, he's refreshingly friendly with everyone...well, almost everyone."

Barry closes his eyes in defeat.

"It’s so obvious that he hates Scott’s guts," Bridge agrees with the unspoken exception. "But he tries his best to engage him. That's commendable."

The two men laugh. 

"But that’s good, right?" The CEO asks. "The other PAs liked Scott which meant that they weren't loyal to Iris. I've read some reviews, and they all seemed to hate making her coffee the most. But Allen's a coffee enthusiast just like her."

"Or he’s got eyes just like Evans?" Bridge challenges with an amused tone. "Thank goodness that he’s only here for six months, otherwise I would've vetoed her getting a male PA."

Wait...that was him? Picking only women for Iris' PA?

"You don't need to play the overprotective brother, Mace," Larkin chides his CMO. "She treats men and women the same way: like they should know better!"

The CEO laughs at his own joke but the CMO doesn't, and shortly after the two men leave the bathroom.  
  


  
Barry agrees with Larkin: Iris does seem to look down on everyone's nonsense equally. He remembers the reprimanding silence she gave Bridge on Monday when the latter asked if she was joining the Social. So, not even her superiors are spared her school teacher's stare down.

Speaking of superiors, how can the Tockmans be so petty to her? Stagg was a fraud, she was right for exposing him! What amazing drug from Stagg Industry did Bill have to replace with regular painkillers?

Barry's washing his hands when his phone screen goes bright.

Cisco again.

The audacity of calling him on the same number Barry couldn't connect to for the three first months he had with a lucid mind...

Barry takes his time to dry his hands—he loves these towels even more knowing that Iris helped put them on the market—and wipes his phone before he answers.

"Hey Cisco," he greets. "You’re at the airport yet?"

"He's not going anywhere for the next three years."

Caitlin.

"Oh, hi Caitlin," Barry greets, and refrains from asking her how Cisco will manage for the Fashion week in Paris.

Simple: he'll only send his assistant designers and their hordes of interns. He never RSVPs anyway, and he never shows up on the runway in person. His absence won't be felt.

Plus he shouldn't be traveling: he's got six months to make an entire in-season collection from scratch while he also works on next year's spring and summer collection. And the in-season must look different from what he's already made for this fall/winter regular collection.

But yeah, Caitlin grounded him, Barry remembers now. So he'll stay home. That's great, really.

"We need to talk," Caitlin's next words are delivered in monotonous voice, but Barry knows that she's hiding whatever sense of urgency makes her say that. "Tonight. All of us."

Uh-oh, she can't mean—

"Dr. Wells?" He guesses, and she hums in confirmation.

"It's a small party rather than a meeting," she informs him, "so bring your girlfriend."

She hangs up before he can debate whether or not to deny that Iris is his girlfriend.

She for sure is his boss, who is likely wondering where the hell he is.

He heads for the break room to make her a cup of tea, which someone else makes for him because now everyone's aware that he's a former celebrity.

Well, he still has fans, so he qualifies as a current celebrity, he supposes.

"Does 'therapeutic cloning' rings a bell?" Is Iris' way of welcoming him back to the office.

What the...how does she know? Dr. Black said that they'd never met.

"It's the reason why I still have a bell to ring," he answers with a slow enunciation as he reaches the desk and places the coaster then tea mug in front of Iris.

She looks like she needs a stronger drink. She's as put together as when he left her, but her eyes are red-rimmed and the hand holding the highlighter above the word-crowded page of a notebook is slightly shaky.

"What's wrong?" Barry asks softly, forcing himself not to walk around the desk to kneel by her chair.

"I think that the man who healed your brain can heal my mom," she answers without emotion.

Oh. Her mother is sick? What disease is—

Terminal, of course. Progressive? Which one is the politically correct term? Anyway: the disease must be fatal and incurable. 

That's why Stagg was such a big shot back then: he was supposedly coming up with a universal treatment for all rapidly degenerative diseases.

"Iris, I'm so sorry about your mom," he says and does walk up to her chair, pausing when she shakes her head.

She doesn't look upset, though. In fact she's got a tiny smile stretching her lips and she stretches her arm to...reach for him?

"Don't be sorry, Mr. Allen," she tells him when he gladly takes her hand and actually she uses him as leverage to stand up. "You should be the opposite of sorry! You're the walking proof that what used to be a pre-clinical method to save dying mice is now working on humans."

Oh. Ah.

"I was a guinea pig, Ir...Miss West," he warns her, not wanting to give her false hope. "That's why Thawne hid me. I was more likely to die than anything else. And I'm not the same, my brain's lost a lot. Not memories, but...I'm not the same."

"I don't need the cure to be perfected yet, I just need it to exist," she argues with two vigorous nods. "And I know that you've lost your very fine acting skills."

He blinks in surprise at not just her words, or the gentle squeeze of her fingers on his, but also...is that eagerness in her eyes or is he tripping?

"You sound...happy about my loss," he mildly accuses her, feeling more confused than offended. 

"Oh! Sorry," she reacts bashfully, but he doesn't let her withdraw her hand. "That's so insensitive of me. Forgive me."

"I forgive you if you tell me why you're happy that I lost my fine acting skills," he bargains. "Who said that? You didn't know that, you couldn't know. You didn't even know my face, not that everyone in Central City knew—"

"I told you, I hadn't had my morning coffee yet," she reminds him with a frown. "Of course I knew your face. But I thought..."

"Sorry, now you're upset," he apologizes with a sigh as he squeezes her fingers this time. "Why are you happy that I can't—"

"Go back on the runway," she completes the sentence in a rush. "I...Mr. Allen...B-Barry."

He feels his jaw loosen up but he keeps himself somewhat together.

Is he dreaming?

"I'm sorry for last night," her next words are just as dreamy. "For leaving after we had a...great time. I thought that there was no point in staying, in cuddling, because I couldn't get attached to you. You said that you're going back in the fashion world in six months so I assumed that you wanted to be a famous runway model again. Someone who spends more time in airports than home..."

No way. Is she saying...?

"I thought that you'd leave me behind, eventually," she confesses, her gaze down at their joined hands. "And I since you're more experienced...not in BDSM clearly, but with sex...I thought that you'd get bored of me eventually. That you fall in love as fast as you fall out of love. A hopeless romantic."

The room goes quiet, but for what totals to forty seconds an undeniable tension grows between them. 

"Iris?" He calls out.

She doesn't answer but she looks up at him, her eyes bright with curiosity and her bottom lip under her teeth. Her hand is shaking slightly in his.

"Rules?" He requests, not daring to move anything but his lips for now.

"If I don't like it I'll say so," she promises in one breath. "I promise I will, Barry! And later we can—umm!"

He's let go of her hand to gently grab her face with both so he kiss her, and his heart soars when she doesn't waste time to return that kiss.

It's just firm presses of lips for a moment, but then their height difference makes her strain her neck so he does what he's wanted to do since he stepped into this office:

He grabs her by the waist and hoists her up on her large desk, relishing the shocked but pleased gasp that escapes her. She's wearing a high-cinched dress with a lose skirt today so the hand that Barry doesn't bring back to her face slips underneath the fleece and—

"Are you trying to kill me?" He breathes against her lips, his heart hammering at his ribcage as he stares at her, their eyes crossing since they're so close. "Or is there a 'no panties' trend I don't know about?"

"Please," she whispers as she starts peppering his face with kisses but leans back and braces herself on her hands extending behind her.

He leans over to resume kissing her properly, but when he starts caressing her chest with his free hand she detaches her lips from his.

"I can't," she says against the skin of his neck. "I'll ruin my most expensive piece of hosiery if you don't—"

He doesn't need to be told twice. She brings her hands forward and braces herself against his shoulders. She lifts her hips and he carefully pulls down her pantyhose.

He appreciates that she's wearing her hair in a high bun today because he can then lower her upper body on the desk, slowly and gently while his breathing is too fast and his heart beating violently in his chest.

They could get caught, and he knows that he should care now. He's got a plan for her to get that promotion...

"Hurry, Barry," Iris pleads in an enticingly breathy voice before he makes her moan when he kisses her neck. "Hurry...I want to suck you off too."

Well, as Len always says about plans...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big hint for the whole horoscope cancer thing: if Cynthia can tell the future, guess who else has psychic powers?


End file.
